


A Grave Life

by youvebeenlivingfictional



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Light Torture, Mutual Pining, Pining, Power Dynamics, Rating May Change, The wand kind, Violence, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2020-01-13 07:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 21,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18464323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youvebeenlivingfictional/pseuds/youvebeenlivingfictional
Summary: Three things happened very quickly:1. Wesley let out a yell of pain2. Tina let out a shocked laugh, and then immediately slapped her hand over her mouth when she saw who was in the other doorway3. Percival Graves snapped, “Hey!”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Accidental injury, general snark
> 
> Also couldn’t find an actual closing spell, just one to seal doors?
> 
> This is set 3 years before Fantastic Beasts (so ~1923)
> 
> Not beta read

'The one that can beat the enchanted typewriter’ was how Graves had originally heard her described. Now, this didn’t mean much to him; he generally didn’t monitor the speed of his typewriters. Picquery knew her name, however, and that was enough to put her on his radar.

Tina was a decent dueler. She had room for improvement, as everyone did. When Perceval made her aware of this, she promised to get the necessary training.

Graves didn’t know he’d be gaining two better-equipped Aurors out of the experience.

———————

Tina and I had the room until two. I had made sure of it, had filled out a form, cross-checked that we were set.

And Tina was a good dueler, but she was getting frustrated. It was wandless magic where she was getting stuck. Not that wandless was regulation, but Tina had mentioned wanting to work on it.

I figured we’d start simple– summoning spells. Both doors to the room were open; Tina had opened them when the room had gotten too warm. My hair, while in a bun, had curls poking out from where it was tied back; my sleeves had been pushed up to my elbows. It only got worse when another Auror, Wesley, showed up to take the room over. I told him five times that we had ten minutes left, but he wasn’t budging. He just kept yelling at me from outside the door. None of us knew that Mr. Graves was outside.

I swear I was just trying to close the door.

Unthinkingly, I shifted my weight, throwing my power behind a spell that slammed the door shut, right onto Wesley’s fingers.

Three things happened very quickly:   
1\. Wesley let out a yell of pain   
2\. Tina let out a shocked laugh, and then immediately slapped her hand over her mouth when she saw who was in the other doorway  
3\. Percival Graves snapped, “Hey!”  
  
I turned to look at him, a few more curls sprung loose, and, unable to help myself, huffed a bitter laugh, and mumbled, “Perfect.”

———————

I was doing my best not to slouch, or fold my arms. So far, I was succeeding, but the silence was killing me. I had been called into Percival Graves’ office immediately following the incident.

I’d been given a few seconds to go into the bathroom and collect myself; I’d taken those few moments to fix my hair, and dab my face with cool water, re-tuck my shirt into my trousers before heading into Graves’ office. It was like I couldn’t look anywhere. I couldn’t look at the books on the shelf without squinting to try and see the titles; I couldn’t look at the things on his desk while he was leafing through the pages of my file; I couldn’t look at him.

He was handsome. I’d known that, had seen him around the office. Knew about Tina’s little crush on him, too. It wasn’t a surprise; a third of New York’s MACUSA branch had some attraction to the Head Auror. He cleared his throat, and I looked up to find him still looking at my file.

"So, you’re the one that’s faster than the typewriters.“ I snorted, unable to help it as I recalled the day I was timed against one of the standard office enchanted typewriters, and backed down at the look he gave me.

"Yes, sir,” I answered. He gave me a long look before looking back down at the file.

"You were in Thunderbird.“

"Yes.”

"You didn’t have a high ranking in your class.“

"Thanks for the reminder.” Another look. I promptly shut my mouth but didn’t look away from him. He dropped his gaze back to my file.

"You took three extra years to graduate,“ he relayed before folding his hands on his desk over the file. "Why?”

My eyebrows rose. The dates were all there, weren’t they?

"I went to Europe.“

"What year?”

"1916.“

"And you were?”

"Fifteen.“

“You were too young to be fighting.“

"It’s a little late to chastise me.” Graves’ eyebrow rose.

"And when you left Ilvermorny, what did you do?“ He asked.

"I started in the mailroom here.”

"And since then?“

"I’m a secretary now.”

"You’re wasted there.“ I turned my head a little, frowning.

"Excuse me?”

"You’re not doing anyone any good in the secretarial pool, not based on what I saw in there.“ Graves surveyed me for a moment, leaning back in his seat.

"Why haven’t you applied to be an Auror?” I shrugged one shoulder, unwilling to answer to that I didn’t think I had the skill. Graves looked back down at my file.

"Your Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T.s are excellent, as are your Charms. You were Captain of the Dueling Club your last two years. Headmaster Deucalion remarked in your recommendation that your cognitive abilities don’t necessarily translate to what’s on paper. Do you think he’d want to see you in the secretarial pool?“

"Are you trying to go somewhere with this line of speculation, Mr. Graves?”

Graves picked up a pen, plucking a piece of paper from his stationary and jotting down a couple of things as he said,"I’m considering this your entrance interview. You’ll take the field exam a week from now.“

I didn’t bother arguing; Graves would see how unqualified I was when the time came. Two weeks later, Wesley’s hand was healed, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had a new Auror.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently it was unusual for Junior Aurors to shadow Graves, rather than some other Auror familiar with the field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Sorry ifthe spacing is wonky, this was posted from mobile. Not beta’s
> 
> Warnings: None?

Apparently it was unusual for Junior Aurors to shadow Graves, rather than some other Auror familiar with the field. I had been expecting to shadow Tina, at least, who was three years older and had been an Auror for almost a year, but after a  welcome from Picquery and a weekly brief with all of the Aurors in the department, Graves simply said, “You’re with me,” and led the way to his office.

I closed the door when I was instructed to, following Graves his desk. He passed me a file and I scanned it. An arrest was pending for Mick O'Shaunessey for associating with No-Maj’s and selling them enchanted alcohol.

"Why isn’t this guy already behind bars?“ I asked, looking up at Graves as he settled behind his desk.

“Because we haven’t been able to get any of his associates to rat on him before.”

"And we do now?“ Graves nodded to the file and Cat turned the page to another mugshot.

"Brent McClarren, one of O'Shaunessey’s inner circle.”

"Why would he turn on his boss?“

"Apparently Brent’s been falling out of favor. He took a deal for information on O'Shaunessey.”

"And you trust this?“ The look that Graves fixed me with told me that I definitely sounded as disbelieving as I felt.

"We gave him veritaserum. It’s reliable.” I nodded a little, looking down at the file and starting with, “sorry,” before Graves cut me off:

"You’re asking the right questions.“

"So what do we do?” I asked.

"We’re going to pick him up,“ Graves said, pulling on his coat and putting his scarf around his neck.

"Get your coat.” I tucked my hands into my pockets after setting the file onto Graves’ desk.

"I didn’t bring one.“ I wanted to melt at the look he gave me.

"I’ll be fine, I run warm,” I added quickly. It was considerably cooler than I had expected as Graves and I stepped outside. He led the way into an alley, gripping my sleeve. I felt the familiar jerk behind her navel. A moment later, we were striding down a different alley, not a beat missed in the steps between us. I vaguely recognized the area and felt myself step a little closer to Graves. He glanced down at me, brow raised.

“Are you cold?” He asked lightly. I held in a snippy reply. In fact, I was, a little; it was windier by the waterside. A passing No-Maj spat just a little too close to my shoes with a pointed look. I kept my eyes forward, refusing to look the man in the eye, and maintaining my pace. Percival faltered half a pace before he was alongside me again, closer than I had stepped to him without a word. I shot him a grateful look before he led the way up the steps of an apartment building.

The area seemed nice enough. The ambush seemed less nice. It felt like familiar to me, in a way, a reminder of the war. We had O'Shaunessey and two of his associates in body binding curses on the floor, and stubbornly refusing to talk. I hung back, let Graves do the talking.

I heard shuffling above me– too close to be from the floor above. I couldn’t stop myself, shushing Graves mid-question. He turned to me, frowning, opening his mouth to speak, but I cut him off again, bringing a finger up to my lips. A moment later, we heard more thumping. Graves looked up, listening.   
  
"It’s rats. Just rats-“ Mick snapped. I stepped over to a broom in the corner of the room, following the sound before striking the handle of the broom hard against the ceiling. It caved, a man falling to the floor. I petrified him before he could move, only to find that it was Brent, our informant. I nodded. 

"Sure is,” I agreed, looking back at Mick.   
  
  


People watched us when we returned to the office, eyes following us as we passed through the office, and looking at the grumbling gangsters in front of us. O'Shaunessey couldn’t go five minutes before bragging about his schemes, how well-known he was. He was put in holding. I watched Brent leave through the blinds of Graves’ office. My feelings must’ve been plain on my face because Graves spoke up from behind me: “We’ve got someone tailing him.” I turned to look at him and found him glancing outside as well.

“The next time he steps out of line, we’ll know.” I nodded, turning away from the window and leaning back against it.

"What’s next?“

"Report write-up.” I left the office, glad to be writing it and not filing it.  
  
  
  
Not every day was as exciting as that first one had been, and I rarely shadowed Graves. There were some days that I was with Tina, or with Sewett, a man that I had gone to school with, though he was in his third year when I was in my first. I still doubted that this position was the best for me, but I was glad to have been moved out of the secretarial pool.  
  
I was a little miffed on the days that I didn’t have a chance to interact with Graves– he was the reason I had this position, after all, and I’d hoped I’d have a little more time to pick his brain about what he’d seen in me that day that made him so interested in having my taking the exam. I understood, of course. He was a busy guy.

“Goldstein, I need you to drop these files to Graves.”

It was an August evening, a Friday, and Tina had already put off leaving several times. She looked owlishly at the files in Sewett’s hands, frowning.

“Well-“

“I’ll take them,” I volunteered. Sewett looked over at me, brow furrowed.

“You?”

“Yeah, me. What, you don’t think I can carry some files?” He grunted.

“Address is on the front.” As soon as he was out of earshot, Tina turned to me, sighing out,

“Thank you.” I waved her off.

“Get going to Queenie, it’s nearly sundown.”

  
It had started to rain by the time I arrived. The address was in a nicer part of Brooklyn, quiet, by the waterfront. I took the stairs two at a time to the front door and rang the bell. I looked forward as it opened, then down at the sight of the House Elf there.

“Ah… I have some files for Mr. Graves.” The House Elf turned wordlessly, and I followed him inside.

I looked around the foyer, eyeing the dark wood of the staircase, the nice coats on the hooks. I recognized one of the coats hanging there as Graves’.

“What are you doing here?” I turned back to face him as he spoke.

Graves’ waistcoat was unbuttoned, top button undone, and his hair looked like he’d been taking his hand through it.And boy, did he look surprised. I pushed a smile onto my face as he stepped closer.

"I’ve got those files you needed,“ I said, opening her bag to pull them out. I looked back up at Graves, finding him directly in front of me now. He reached out, taking the files.  
  
"Thank you for taking the time out of your evening to bring these by.” I shrugged a little bit, zipping my bag back up.

"No worries. Didn’t have anything else going on.“ Merlin, he didn’t need to know that.

"Percival? Who is it?” I peered around Graves, who turned to face the voice. An older, impeccably dressed woman came in. I was so distracted by her that I didn’t hear Graves introducing me. Graves had her cheekbones and nose. He held his hand out to me, gesturing for me to move forward. I didn’t take it, moving closer, coming to stand by his side.

"This is my mother, Eugenia Graves.“ I took Eugenia’s hand lightly, fighting the inexplicable urge to curtsy. Eugenia was scrutinizing me, I could tell, and I suddenly felt shabby in my near threadbare jacket; my fingers twitched at my sides, itching to reach up and push my hair back or to twist in the fabric of my pants.

"You’re one of Percival’s Aurors?” Eugenia asked. My head shifted at that, brow furrowing.

"Ye-ees.” I answered. Something about this woman made me feel unsure of myself.

"You’ll stay for dinner.“ I glanced up at Graves and found him as surprised as I was.

"Ma'am, I couldn’t–”

"The weather is atrocious.” A clap of thunder on cue.

“Wait until it dies down.“ I looked back toward the door.

"I’ll apparate.”

"You’ll catch your death.“ Eugenia waved at the coat again.

"Come along.” Eugenia turned, moving back into the living room. I turned to look at Percival, an apology at the tip of my tongue, but he’d put his files down and was moving to help me out of my coat.

"Mr. Graves, I’m–“

"You’ll drown out there. And once my mother has set her mind on something, she is immovable,” he said, voice gruff.

"I can handle drowning.”

Graves’ brows drew together, and save for the small quirk of his lips, he didn’t look very amused. He nodded into the room Eugenia had gone into. I nodded a little and did as told. I felt as though Graves’ eyes were on me, but I didn’t dare look back to check. I was waved into a plush couch close to the fireplace, and I settled in, favoring the side closest to the fire, still a little chilly.

“Auror, then?” Eugenia asked.

"Yes, ma'am.“

"New?”

"Since April,“ Graves answered, coming back in. "Can I get you something to drink?”

"Tea, if you have it, please?“

"You don’t want something stronger?” Eugenia asked. I had spied the wine glass at Eugenia’s side table as I’d come in, and found myself wondering if this was a test.

"Tea is fine. I’d like to warm up a bit,“ I smiled, "But thank you.” Graves nodded, stepping away again.

"How are you finding it?“ Eugenia asked. I nodded a little bit.

"It’s– it’s good. I mean, I’m still adjusting, I was in the secretarial pool before this.”

Eugenia raised a brow at the admission.

"And have you always wanted to be an Auror? How did you work your way up?“ I chose to avoid the first question in favor of answering the second.

"Well, I was training with a friend– another Auror, and your son… Saw me and thought I might be a good fit.”

Eugenia looked over her shoulder as she said, "That sounds fairly standard.“

"That’s because she’s underselling it,” Graves commented before setting the saucer and cup down on the side table beside me. I thanked him quietly as he went on,“I saw her working with another Auror of mine before she slammed the door on the hand of a Senior Auror wandlessly.“

He sat in an armchair near his mother’s, and I picked up my cup as he picked up his tumbler of scotch.

"She seemed to do it without thinking,” he added, looking at me as he took a sip from his scotch.

“I did act a bit impulsively,” I admitted. Eugenia looked back at me, and I averted my eyes, looking to the fire.

"What house were you in?“

"Thunderbird, ma'am.”

"And which tried to claim you?“ I tipped my head to the side, surprised at the question.

"Wampus, ma'am.” I could see Graves’ head turn toward me in her periphery.

"That was Percival’s house, you know,“ Eugenia said, turning to look at him. That made sense– Graves was the very picture, in my mind, of an excellent wizard, a warrior.

"Why did you choose Thunderbird?” Graves asked. I thought for a moment, brow furrowing as it had when I had turned eleven and had been faced with that choice.

"There was always something in me that wanted more than I had. To leave and explore. Thunderbird is soul, adventure. It seemed like a good fit.“

"And was it?” Eugenia asked. I hesitated.

"I believe it was.“   
  
Thinking back on my school experience, my friends in other houses– I pushed the thoughts back in favor of taking a long sip of my tea.   
  
  
  
Dinner was better than I’d had in a while; it wasn’t that the MACUSA was cheap, but secretarial wages weren’t particularly substantial, and my junior Auror wages, while better, had largely gone to moving into a new apartment. The rain had long since stopped by the time Graves was helping me back into my coat. Eugenia had already said her goodbyes and disappeared into the library, leaving the two of us alone.

"Sorry again for interrupting your evening,” I said, as I did up the buttons.

"It wasn’t an interruption,” Graves said, leaning back against the wall, “Certainly more exciting than the last few family dinners.” I looked up at him and, seeing his small smile, echoed it, bashful.

"Well, as long as it wasn’t a bother, either,“ I said, tucking my hands into my pockets.

"I’ll be going, then. Can I Apparate from in here, or–“

“I’m afraid you’ll have to go outside, but before you do,” Graves said. He pushed off the wall, stepping toward me. I watched, curious, as his head dipped a bit to look me in the eyes.

"Has Ms. Goldstein said anything to you about the Second Salemers?“

Any illicit thoughts I was having about his lips went right out the window upon being slapped in the face with a question about Christianity.

”… Yes, I believe she’s mentioned them. Why?“

"They’re dangerous. I don’t want you going near them.”

"I won’t. I haven’t been.“ The twist of Graves’ mouth told me that he was sure of the opposite, but rather than call my bluff, he stepped back.

"Get home safely.” I nodded before stepping out of the house and shutting the door behind myself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My heart was pounding in my ears. I could hardly hear Graves’ instructions over it. The house was run down, falling apart. Wand in hand, I crept forward down the dark hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some violence

With a ‘crack!’, I appeared in my apartment, shaking a few raindrops out of my hair. I was unable, however, to shake off the look that Graves had given me in the foyer before I left. Had I honestly thought he was going to kiss me? I had just spent the evening intruding on what was likely a weekly dinner between my boss and his mother. 

I spent the conversation with Graves’ mother feeling like I was being interviewed, even more thoroughly than Graves had for my position. I was still glad I’d gone instead of Tina. I knew what women like Eugenia could be like, how potentially scrutinizing and cruel.

Tina.

The Second Salemers.

Graves.   
  
I was still wrapped up in that moment, that foolish anticipation as he drifted closer, and looked down at me with those warm, dark eyes.   
  
How stupid could I be? We hardly knew one another. 

I shrugged out of my coat, tossing it over the back of my armchair as I headed into my small kitchen. I bypassed the gigglewater in favor of my bottle of Scotch. I had been eyeing Graves’ glass all night but hadn’t worked up the courage to ask for my own tumbler’s worth. After pouring myself a healthy amount, I settled on the armchair, legs thrown over the side, foot tapping absently to my hi-fi.   
  
 _“They’re dangerous. I don’t want you going near them”._  
  
That struck a chord with me, as if he knew I had gone. I hadn’t seen any other members of the MACUSA at the services– I had looked.   
  
I had only gone a couple of times and had mostly spoken to the children at the church, never the head of the church herself. I didn’t want to get that close. Going a couple more times couldn’t hurt– I’d get a better grasp for their message, and see if I could verify what Tina was saying without getting us in trouble. 

  
  
“With me.” The words were spoken so quietly that I barely heard them, and only registered that they were spoken to me when Tina gave me a look. I got up, grabbing my notebook and pen before following Graves through the open door of his office. I closed the door behind myself, sitting when Graves gestured. 

‎"You’ve heard about the deWitts?“   
  
‎"Yes, sir.” They’d been all over the papers for the last two weeks. Armitage deWitt murdered eight no-Majs in cold blood, without provocation. His brother, Ernest, had initially helped with the cover up before turning himself and his brother in. Ernest had been in the MACUSA’s holding cell for the last week, but Armitage was still at large.   
  
‎"We’ve a lead on Armitage’s location. I’m putting a team together for his apprehension. I’d like for you to be on it.“ I had been sitting with my pen at the ready to take down notes, instructions, a case briefing, but not that. I lowered the pen.   
  
‎"Sir… There are Junior Aurors in this office with more field experience.”  
  
‎"In this city, perhaps, but not on a battlefield.“ I closed the book with my pen inside, fingers clutching the spine.   
  
‎"You really think he poses that much of a threat?” I asked.   
  
‎"Power aside, he is mentally unstable, unpredictable. I need Aurors that understand how quickly a situation can turn, ones that are practiced in that unpredictability and will come out of it as though they never went in.“  
  
‎"No battle is without its price, Mr. Graves,” I said. The both of us were surprised by the coolness of my tone. He leaned back in his seat, observing.   
  
‎"If you’re uncomfortable with this assignment, I need you to tell me.“ I weighed my options in silence for a moment.   
  
‎”… When do we leave?“   
  
  
My heart was pounding in my ears. I could hardly hear Graves’ instructions over it. The house was run down, falling apart. Wand in hand, I crept forward down the dark hall. It was impossible to move around quietly, especially with the group of us. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Graves signal for a few of us to follow him upstairs. I fell into step behind two other Aurors. The stairs groaned beneath us, my stomach churning with each step. The first bedroom was empty, as was the second.   
  
The third room was clearly Armitage’s study.  I stepped further inside, eyeing the contents of the desk as the others went on. There was a map on the desk, with red dots along the coast; a half-finished mug of coffee sat on the corner of the desk, along with a stubbed out cigarette, which was still smoking. I froze, suddenly overtaken by the feeling that I was being watched. 

Graves appeared in the doorway, waving for me to move on, but I caught his eye, slowly shaking my head. Graves frowned, taking a step into the room and peering around. I heard a floorboard creak behind me and, on instinct, ducked, barely missed by the curse that has been aimed at me head. I turned, gripping to the coattail of the madmen running past me and pulled into his Apparation, hardly catching Graves’ yell of, "Don’t!”  
  
I hit the wooden floor of the front hall hard, wand skittering out if my grip, the breath knocked out of me as I rolled onto my stomach. A hand gripped my hair where it was tied back, yanking me upward. I found myself face to face with Armitage, his lips twisted into a grimace as he glared down at me. I caught the glint of a knife as he pulled it out of his boot. I held still, eyes darting between his face and hand as he raised it, a malicious glint in his eye. 

I could hear the thundering of footsteps on the floor above us, but the others would never get there in time. I pulled back, twisting down and under Armitage’s arm, his knife slicing through my hair. Caught off guard and off balance, I took a step back before kicking Armitage roughly in the stomach. He stumbled before letting out a yell as he fell back, down the stairs to the basement. I mumbled, “Accio,” my wand flying through the air and into my hand.    
  
I took in a breath, raising it, but before I could do a thing, Graves passed me, wand raised, a body-binding spell cast over Armitage where he was groaning at the bottom of the stairs. Two Aurors rounded him, heading down to retrieve the maniac. Graves turned to me, mouth set in a thin line.   
  
“You shouldn’t have done that.”  
  
“I had it handled,” I retorted. He stepped forward and reached out, lifting my newly shorn hair away from my neck.   
  
“You’re bleeding.”  
  
“I’ve had worse paper cuts.”  
  
“I’m sure you have, having spent so much time with typewriters.” I clenched my jaw as Graves turned away from me.   
  
“You brought me here to do a job, and I did it.”   
  
“You could’ve gotten yourself killed,” Graves snapped, turning back to me.   
  
“What if he’d Apparated somewhere else?”  
  
“He didn’t, he wanted us off if his tail. That happened to literally include me.”  
  
“And if he hadn’t?”  
  
“Hypotheticals are pointless in these situations. It happened, now it’s over.”  
  
“These things will not always go your way–-”  
  
“As you’ve mentioned Graves, I have seen some things, you don’t think I know that?” I hadn’t realized we’d raised their voices until I spotted the Aurors standing awkwardly at the top of the stairs. Graves turned to face them, clearing his throat.   
  
“Get him back to headquarters.”  
  
The Aurors rounded them, heading for the back door. I looked after them before looking back at Graves, who was still staring at me.   
  
“We’ll discuss this later,” he said firmly before turning away from me. I followed, fuming.   
  
  
We didn’t talk about it. Maybe Graves decided I had been right; maybe he didn’t know how to discuss it with me. Either way, I was on desk duty for the remainder of the week. I stopped searching for a glimpse of Graves’ coat, still angry that I’d be told off the way I had in front of Senior Aurors. Things got around the office quickly, and I could hear whispers:  
  
 _“Took down Armitage herself–”_  
  
 _“Got a slap on the wrist–”_  
  
 _“Never should’ve become an Auror anyway.”_  
  
  
I even caught Tina giving me looks. I wasn’t sure if it was disbelief, or perhaps some jealousy. Tina had been an Auror for a full year by then, and hadn’t been given any kind of field assignment that extreme.

Queenie was the only one that was sympathetic.

Being friends with a legilimens could be nerve-wracking at times, always wondering if she was listening in. But that Thursday evening, as Queenie neatened up the chop-job I had done on my hair, and had been hiding under a hat, I just sat there, and thought. I didn’t know how to make them come out as functioning phrases, but that was fine with Queenie. She just cut my hair, murmuring encouragement and reassurances.    
  
Before she left, I hugged her tightly, mumbling a quiet, shaky, “Thanks.”   
  
Queenie held her just as tightly, lightly rubbing my back.   
  
“What you did then was for a good reason,” she reminded me one more time before Iet her go.  
  
I went on repeating that to myself for the evening, for the next day, and even when I passed Graves in the hallway, both of us refusing to make eye contact.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My name was spelled out in full; the cursive was crisp, and the ink smelled fresh. I opened it, pulling out the invitation to afternoon tea with Eugenia Graves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter, I think. Not beta read

I had washed and hung my laundry, done all of my dishes. I was neatening my apartment when the letter arrived. I gave the owl that passed it on a bit of meat while she opened it and read it, frowning. My name was spelled out in full; the cursive was crisp, and the ink smelled fresh. I opened it, pulling out the invitation to afternoon tea with Eugenia Graves.   
  
Even in my nicest skirt and top, I still felt woefully underdressed. Eugenia hadn’t said a thing about my appearance, and that somehow felt worse. We’d spoken briefly about the weather, about Eugenia’s meeting with her society friends the day before.

Eugenia set her cup down, watching me as she took a sip of her tea.   
  
“I see you’ve cut your hair to suit the current style.” I put my cup down, free hand absently flying up to where my curls now stopped just below my ears.   
  
“Trying something new?” Eugenia asked, though her tone relayed the fact that she knew better.   
  
“There may’ve been a small incident at work.” Eugenia hummed.  
  
“Percival was rather out of sorts when I saw him last,” She said. I folded my hands in my lap, settling in for a scolding.   
  
“Apparently you put yourself in danger of being murdered by Armitage deWitt.” A pause. I had nothing to interject, so Eugenia went on,  
  
“Now I’m not saying that Percival doesn’t worry about all of his Aurors, but I’ve never seen him quite so worked up over a single person in a single incident.”  
  
“Is that so.”   
  
“It is.”  
  
“Did he ask you to speak to me?” The look Eugenia shot at me told me that I was way off, but I had to ask.   
  
“You seem to have caught the interest of my son.”  
  
“I don’t think interest is the best term. I infuriate him, perhaps.” Eugenia smiled a little bit.   
  
“Perhaps.”   
  
We managed to avoid talking about Percival for the remainder of the afternoon, save for Eugenia mentioning his name here and there. I left around five, with an invitation to return for tea the next Saturday.   
  
——–  
  
“I did what I thought was necessary for the mission. If you disagreed with it or disliked what I did, that’s fine, but I need to know your reasoning behind it.”   
  
Percival hadn’t looked up from his papers at my little outburst, was still jotting down notes on a form. I fidgeted, wondering if I ought to leave, and took a step backward, freezing when Graves said, “Don’t.”   
  
My hands were sweaty. I clutched them in the fabric of my trousers, trying to dry them out. Graves still hadn’t looked up, but he waved me into a chair. I went wordlessly, crossing my legs. Graves put his pen down, moving the files aside and folding his hands, looking across the desk at me.   
  
“I should not have lost my temper,” he said, eyes boring into me, “But I was concerned. It took us a long time to find Armitage, and before I could blink, the both of you were gone.”  
  
“But we weren’t–”  
  
“It seemed like you were,“ Graves interjected, “And the next time I caught sight of him, he had a knife on you. This was your first major field mission with the department. We should’ve planned for different outcomes.”  
  
“We didn’t have time–”  
  
“There is always time. We didn’t take it, and that is on me. If we had lost you, that would’ve been on me, too.”  
  
“It wasn’t my first major field mission–”   
  
“Outside of the war.” He clarified, leaning back in his seat, “You weren’t the only one on the field over there, you know.“  
  
"Of course I know that.”  
  
“Then you’ve got to trust me when I tell you it that I know what it’s like to go from an extreme to a mid-level situation.”   
  
I nodded a little bit, lowering my eyes to his desk before getting up, heading for the door.   
  
“Is there anything else you’d like to speak about?” He asked. I turned back, meeting his eyes again before shaking my head.   
  
“Not even tea with my mother?” My eyes widened a little, lips pulling into a small guilty smile.   
  
“I didn’t—“  
  
"It’s alright,” Graves cut me off again.   
  
“Though you should know that she’s issued a standing Friday night invitation.” I felt my ears go red, letting out a shaky laugh.  
  
“I wouldn’t want to impose on your evenings–”   
  
“If you don’t come, she’ll call you by on Saturdays, then. She’s taken an interest in you.”  
  
“Is that a good thing?” Graves considered me for a moment before answering,  
  
“That remains to be seen.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was sure Tina already had a lot of questions for her but was positive that they doubled when, that Friday, Graves stopped by my desk and waited for me to collect my things before letting me lead the way out of the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter, I don't think. Not beta-read.

"What'd he say?" Queenie asked quietly as she deposited a cup of coffee on my desk. I looked up, making eye contact and with her,  relaying the conversation as concisely as I could. Queenie nodded, eyes wide, until I was finished.   
  
"Well, he had some good points," Queenie offered. I shrugged a little bit, looking back down at the form I’d been working on.   
  
"Thanks for the coffee, Queenie."   
  
"Sure that's all he said?" She wheedled. I sighed, knowing better than to lie to a legilimense. I looked up, and after a few seconds, Queenie gasped, clapping her hands excitedly.   
  
"What's she like?" I offered a mental picture of Eugenia Graves for Queenie's perusal, and she hummed, frowning a little.   
  
"Severe."  
  
"And more practiced in interrogation than her son."   
  
"What are you two talking about?" Queenie and I turned to look at Tina, who had half-risen out of her chair to capture the full conversation. Queenie glanced at me for permission. I pursed my lips and shrugged before returning to my work. Queenie stepped away quietly, dropping the conversation, and I went on with my work, ignoring the feeling of Tina watching me.  
  
The stony silence persisted between us for the week. Tina and I typically had an easy rapport up, chatted to pass the time when doing paperwork if we were both in the office. But this? This was awful. 

  
I was irritated, though. I knew Tina had been talking about me and the mission behind my back, and until Tina confronted me about it, I wasn't going to be the first to reach out. I was sure Tina already had a lot of questions for her but was positive that they doubled when, that Friday, Graves stopped by my desk and waited for me to collect my things before letting me lead the way out of the office.

We crossed the street together, bundled against a premature September chill. I was prepared to Apparate when, unexpectedly, Graves took my hand. The next thing I knew, we were in the parlor of Eugenia's home. Percival took in my questioning look, and let go of my hand.

"Only certain of us can Apparate into the house. I didn't want to leave you outside and confused.” I nodded.   
  
“Appreciate it,” I said, smiling a little bit. Graves returned it with a nod, helping me out of her coat.   
  
“Percival? Is that you?” Graves and I turned our heads in the direction of Eugenia’s voice.    
  
“Yes, mother.”  
  
”Where is—”   
  
“Right here, ma’am,” I interjected.   
  
“Ah, good,” Eugenia said, stepping into the hall.   
  
“I’ll be with you in a moment, I’m just speaking to your—“   
  
“ _GENIE_?” A call came from the study. Percival cringed as the voice shrieked,   
“ _IS THAT PERCY_?” I watched, amused, as Eugenia rolled her eyes, 

“No, Ermentine, I just thought it was,” She said, stepping back into her office, closing the door behind herself. 

“Ermentine?” I asked curiously.   
  
“My aunt,” Percival explained, “A gossip-hungry woman who has nothing going on in her life and thus pries into the lives of others.” I nodded a little bit.   
  
“She sounds… Lovely.” Graves shot me a look before leading the way into the parlor. I looked around, drifting over to the bookshelf, the display equal parts books and framed family photos.   
  
“Could I get you something to drink?” Graves asked. I tipped my head back in his direction, eyes still set on a picture of a teenaged Percival on a broom.   
  
“Tea’s alright.”   
  
“Are you sure?” I had a flashback to last week and turned back to see Percival waiting.   
  
“Did I say tea? I meant scotch.” He poured us each a healthy amount.   
  
“I’m not sure how you’d confuse the two.”   
  
“They both have similar coloring, strong flavor. I don’t see how you  _don’t_  confuse them.” Percival passed the tumbler to me as he joined me at the bookshelf.   
  
“Thank you,” I said, taking it from him. I’d moved on to scanning titles. Graves leaned back against the shelf, glass in hand, looking at the fire.   
  
“Why did you choose Thunderbird?” He asked quietly. The questions startled me, and I turned my head to look at him.  
  
“Well— I told you why last—“   
  
“Was that really the reason?” I looked away again, shrugging a little bit.   
  
“As good reasoning as an eleven-year-old could muster at my choosing. It never really changed, though.”  
  
“Were there moments that you wished you’d chosen Wampus?”   
  
“Once or twice.” Percival nodded.   
  
“Why did you choose Wampus?” I asked.   
  
“It was my father’s house, his father before him, and so on,” Percival answered simply, “It was my legacy.”   
  
“It was what was expected of you,” I commented lightly. Percival nodded.   
  
“Do you wish you’d chosen another house?” I asked. He took a moment, and a sip, mulling the question over.   
  
“I don’t know what else I would’ve chosen,” He said honestly. I nodded, looking back to the books.   
  
“Apologies,” Eugenia said, stepping into the room, a glass of red wine in hand. I straightened automatically, shoulders pulling back. Percival remained slouched against the shelf, eyeing the shift in my demeanor, brow raised.

“Good to see you again.”   
  
“And you, Mrs. Graves. Thank you for the invitation.” Eugenia nodded, waving me over to my now ‘usual’ armchair. I went without a word, glancing back at Percival before settling in.   
  
“What were you two discussing?” Eugenia asked, looking between the two of us. I glanced back at Percival only to find him looking at his mother as he shrugged, and said, “School.”

It had felt like so much more than that.

\-----

“I’ll take Floo back,” I insisted, heading for the living room fireplace. I’d long since said my goodbyes to Eugenia, but had spent nearly another hour talking to Graves. For our disagreement earlier that week, and our discussion earlier that day, I found him incredibly easy to talk to. He seemed to be loosening up himself— top two buttons undone, tie removed, sleeves rolled back (why did men always look so much more attractive with their sleeves rolled back?).   
  
“You’re sure?” Graves asked.   
  
“For the eighth time, Graves, I’m sure,” I was laughing. His strong, warm hand wrapped around my wrist, turning me back to him.   
  
“Percival,” He said. My brow furrowed, the laugh dying down as I looked at him, confused.   
  
“I want you to call me Percival,” he clarified gently, “when we’re here.” I nodded.   
  
“Percival,” I agreed.   
  
He murmured my name, stepping closer. 

Oh, no. No no. I’d fallen for that once before. I slipped my wrist from his grasp, heading for the fireplace and taking a handful of Floo powder. 

I ducked into the fireplace, shooting Percival one more smile and murmuring a goodbye before disappearing in a flash of green flame.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “God, Queenie, I can’t have a crush on my boss,” I whined. I heard a chuckle from a passing woman pushing a pram and glared after her. The park was busy that Saturday afternoon. Most stuck to the benches, hunched over a cigarette or trying to keep their lunches from the birds; others were keeping an eye on their young charges running around and jumping into piles of leaves.

It was the scotch. It had to have been the scotch— I was sure I wouldn’t have lost my head, else. Wouldn’t have imagined Percival drifting as close as he did, wouldn’t have wanted it to be so real.

Well, that was less than true; I would’ve wanted it to be real, regardless of how much I’d had to drink. 

“God, Queenie, I can’t have a crush on my boss,” I whined. I heard a chuckle from a passing woman pushing a pram and glared after her. The park was busy that Saturday afternoon. Most stuck to the benches, hunched over a cigarette or trying to keep their lunches from the birds; others were keeping an eye on their young charges running around and jumping into piles of leaves. Queenie was braiding some flowers she’d conjured into a crown. I had always loved watching Queenie’s long, delicate fingers weave the flowers together. 

“It would seem that you can,” Queenie teased, giving me a look. I rolled my eyes, leaning back against the bench  
  
“I shouldn’t. He’s in a position of power, and not just over me. He holds the second-most important position in,” I looked up as an older man walked but with his dog, “In the company. He’s the reason I even have my job—“  
  
“ _You_ are the reason that you have your job,” Queenie interjected. I pursed my lips.  
  
“He’s the reason I was recommended. The reason I took the test, he was by my side the first day of work, his mother thinks I affect him? Or something?”

“But do you like him?” I raised a brow, looking at Queenie from where she’d slouched down on the bench.   
  
“Queenie, I just admitted that I had a crush on him.”  
  
“A crush is one thing. Do you think it could ever become more than that?”  
  
I went quiet. I thought about Percival, the tightness in his voice when he spoke of his legacy, his warm hand on my wrist, the look in his eye—

“Get out of my head, Queenie,” I said quietly, feeling as though something was sifting through my mind. It disappeared, and she offered a bashful smile and a murmur of, “Sorry.”

I nodded, forgiving.

“So you do think there could be more,” Queenie pointed out. I shrugged.

“Based off of one moment? Maybe. But that thinking has gotten me in trouble before.” I could hear Queenie’s hesitation as she said,

“The last time… well, you were right. Your instincts are good, always have been.” I sighed, leaning back against the bench, muttering,

“Not always.”

———

Neither of us ever apologized. Tina just started talking, asking open-ended questions on a Tuesday when we were both there late. It worked for us, and even though some words were unspoken, they were understood.

———

“What are you doing for Christmas?”

“… Ah…”   
  
Saturday teas with Eugenia had become as much a part of my routine as Friday night dinners had. I wasn’t sure how Eugenia and I had gotten from the newest song by Marietta Hornsby (“a jaunty tune, but not something I would enjoy listening to without company present,” Eugenia had declared). But now Eugenia was staring me down. I hadn’t given it any thought; Christmas was still a ways away— it wasn’t even October yet.

“I’m not so big on Christmas,” I admitted.

“Your family doesn’t do anything?” She frowned. I felt a lump form in my throat and I took another sip of my tea. If I didn’t tell her now, I’d have to tell her later; perhaps she’d reject me, as many other Purebloods had, but I had come to like Eugenia. I didn’t want to lie to her. I lifted my chin, setting my teacup aside. 

“I was raised in a home for young witches and wizards. I never knew my parents. They were No-Majs.” I was only aware of the clicking of Graves’ shoes behind me after I spoke. I swallowed thickly, lowering my eyes to my lap, the full weight of both their gazes on me.

“Didn’t you harass her enough last night?” His voice was gruff, like our first meeting, and I focused harder on my clasped hands.

“Don’t be a brute, Percival. You’re the one interrupting a perfectly lovely conversation. I was just about to ask her to our Christmas festivities.” My eyes lifted again, finding Eugenia half-turned in her seat to look at Percival, who was shrugging out of his coat.

“That’s— Ma’am, that’s very kind of you, but I wouldn’t want to intrude—“ I was waved off before I could finish my protestation. 

“If you’re concerned you’ll interrupt some intimate evening, it’s quite the opposite. My Christmas parties are the event of the season.”

“Mother.”

“Just think about it,” She added before turning back to Percival.

“Now, will you tell me why you barged in here?” Percival looked at Eugenia for a long moment before I felt his gaze shift to me. I cleared my throat.

“I should really be going— thank you for the tea, Mrs. Graves, and the invitation.”

I knew it was rude to just up and leave, but that wasn’t going to stop me, not this time. I heard him hurrying after me and cursed to myself.

Why had I opted for the front door?

Well. The Floo would’ve been too clumsy an exit, and I couldn’t Apparate inside of the house.

I was still tugging my coat on when Percival rounded into the hall. I didn’t bother to button it, despite how windy it was outside.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Graves, I really should go.“   
  
His hand caught mine this time, fingers wrapping around mine. I stopped, facing away from him still, eyes set firmly on the exit, mind on the warmth of Percival’s hand grasping my own.

“Just wait a moment. Please.” I nodded, and he tugged lightly on my hand. I turned back to face him, looking past him, at his chest, anywhere but his face.

“There is nothing wrong with having No-Majs for parents.” My eyes darted to his face then, surprised. Nearly all of the Aurors were Purebloods, and many didn’t hesitate to speak out about Maj-borns.

“All that matters is that you’re here, now.” I nodded a little bit, lowering my eyes from Graves’ face.

“Mother doesn’t care, either,” He went on, “And it doesn’t matter at work— you do your job, and well. If anyone ever speaks against your skills for that reason, they will hear from me.”

“Thank you, Mr. Graves.”

He ducked his head so that my eyes would meet his, his free hand coming up to cup my chin and tilt my head up.

“What’ve I told you about calling me that?” There was a small, warm smile on his lips, and I couldn’t stop mine from matching it.

“Sorry, Percival.”

“Now that’s better.”

He lowered his hand from my face.

“I… I do hope you accept mother’s invitation.”

I nodded.

“Could you— I didn’t mean to rush out like that but now I can’t go back in—“   
  
We were in the alley across from MACUSA headquarters the next thing I knew, my hand still clasped in his. I smiled, giving him a nod of thanks. He squeezed my hand lightly before letting it slip from mine. He stepped back, and a second later, he was gone.  

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrival of officials visiting from the Wizengammot and our English Auror counterparts had prompted Picquery to organize a small get together, in a show of goodwill between countries, and unity against a rising darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUNNY STORY I was actually writing this story way before Crimes of Grindlewald came out so the character that shows in this chapter is PURELY COINCIDENTAL
> 
> Not beta read

 

“I just don’t feel right being here,” Tina hiss-whispered as we were side-stepped by a regal looking woman teetering on dangerously high heels.

“I don’t know if anyone does,” I pointed out. I just wished I could say that and mean it. There were some people that simply slipped seamlessly into the scene— like Percival. He was magnetic; it was like my eye was naturally drawn to him.

The arrival of officials visiting from the Wizengamot and our English Auror counterparts had prompted Picquery to organize a get-together, in a show of goodwill between countries and unity against a rising darkness.

“You look like you need that more than I do,” Percival spoke low in my ear, and it took everything in me not to shiver. Tina had split off, having gotten caught up in a conversation with a friend from school. Percival’s hand skimmed my side as he reached past me for a glass of champagne. I took one as well once I had recovered, the tray moving on. I turned to face Percival and found him standing surprisingly close, a small half-smile stuck to his lips. He was a little loose, I could tell, torn between relaxing and maintaining the composure he held at work.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked.

“I rather think I am. Are you enjoying yourself, Mr. Graves?” There was a twinkle in his eye as he mouthed, ‘Percival’. I shook my head a little, mouthing, ‘work’ in turn. He hummed in agreement before taking a sip from his champagne glass.

I took a half-step back, looking around at the other party attendants.

“Am I boring you?”

“Not yet,” I teased, looking back to Percival. He opened his mouth to answer but closed it when he spotted Picquery approaching.

“There you are, Graves! I was looking for you.”

“Was I really so hard to find?” I covered a smile with a sip of my champagne.

“There’s an old friend here to see you,” Picquery went on, stepping aside to let the man through.

I stopped breathing for a moment.

I knew him immediately— same sure stride, permanent smirk, all easy confidence. I shouldn’t have been as pleased as I was to see him falter just a little when he saw me, too.

“Scamander,” Percival greeted as the two shook hands.

“Graves,” Theseus replied, though his eyes were still set on me. Was I smiling? I couldn’t tell.

“Glad to see you could make the trip over alright,” Percival added, letting go of Theseus’ hand, tucking his own in his pocket.

“The weather’s been awful, we were worried you wouldn’t make it,”  Picquery tacked on. She was looking at me now, almost challenging. I was still fairnly new in the department, and besides the deWitt incident, had managed to keep my head down. I could hear the nagging voice in my head telling me to back down, and I did just that, lowering my eyes then, taking a sip from my glass.

“Yes, it was... quite the bumpy ride— you’re looking well,” Theseus added. There was a pause and I looked up to find everyone staring at me.

“Theseus,” I nodded in turn.

“You two know each other?” Picquery asked.

“We fought together in France,” Theseus informed Picquery, “Saved my hide a few times, too.”

“Well someone had to,” I said, and Theseus grinned. I was definitely smiling now.

“Finally wound up an Auror, then. I knew you would, I  _told_  you—“ 

 _“_ My being here has nothing to do with you, thank you, Scamander.”

“I predicted it, I’d say that’s more than enough.”

“I’d have to disagree.”

“I’d have to pretend to be shocked.”

God, it was like old times and that was terrifying. I’d almost forgotten the eyes on us, but then Percival’s stare seemed heavier than it’d ever been before.

“Well... how wonderful that we could facilitate this little reunion,” Picquery’s smile was tight, clearly unsure if she meant that or not.

“Could I freshen your drink?” He was trying to get me away from the others.

“It’s still pretty fresh, but thank you,” I smiled politely. He nodded, eyes narrowed slightly, that damnable smirk still in place.

“Ah, Scamander—“ We turned their heads to see Alistair Thursby, undersecretary of Magical Law Enforcement, heading toward our group.

“Ah, Thursby,” Theseus mimicked, the mocking tone barely there before nodding to me, “Look who I’ve found.”

“Goodness!” Thursby greeted, taking my free hand in both of his. I smiled widely. I’d always liked Thursby; he’d become something of a father figure to me throughout the war, giving me more chances than most commanding officers would’ve, and covering for me when he found out that I was too young to enlist.

“I hear you’ve finally made your way out of the secretarial pool!”

“Thanks to Mr. Graves,” I said, turning to look up at him, finally. He and Theseus were staring one another down, but he turned his head once I addressed him.

“Well, it seems Graves and I share an eye for talent,” Thursby let go of my hand in favor of clapping Graves on the shoulder. His stiff work smile was back. I didn’t like that. I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could, Theseus cleared his throat.

“May I have this dance?” I turned to eye him, as stunned as the others.

“Are you going to step on my feet again?” I asked as I recovered, setting my glass down on a passing tray. He shrugged, holding his hand out for mine.

“Maybe once or twice.”

I knew what it was like to be in his arms. I’d tried to forget sometimes, had strained to remember, others. We weren’t talking, just... looking. His face was exactly the same as I last saw it, for the most part.

“How’d you get the knick in your lip?” I asked. His tongue darted out absently to mark the spot.

“I got into a fight. Don’t worry, it’ll heal... It doesn’t change how it feels.”

“How it feels to you?”

“Or other persons.” I scoffed.

“You would find it in yourself to ask someone that.” Theseus laughed. He looked over my shoulder.

“How well do you know Graves?”

“Well enough, I suppose, as an employee.”

“Well, he hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you.” Theseus looked back down at me.

“Though I can understand why.” I didn’t hesitate to take my hand from his to punch him in the shoulder, his laugh louder now, and something warm and dangerous twisted in the pit of my stomach.

———

“I’m requesting that she be added to our detail.”

That warm and dangerous feeling was still there, coupled with the desire to throttle him.

“That isn’t standard procedure, Scamander,” Picquery said. Her voice and smile were thin. She was careful not to look at me, as others had, unable to restrain themselves.

“Then perhaps we can make an exception to procedure,” Theseus countered. Picquery cleared her throat.

“I’ll have to discuss this with Mr. Graves.” Theseus nodded once, understanding, before his eyes turned to mine. I refused to meet them.

———

My name was gruff in Graves’ mouth as he brushed past my desk. I was up seconds later, heart rabbiting in my chest as I followed him into his office. The door closed behind me, and I caught sight of Percival’s hand lowering to his desk as he settled in. I stepped farther inside, settling into a seat in front of the desk, small notebook open for notes. He waved it off, and I closed it, brow furrowing. His hands were folded on the desk, mouth set him a grim line, brows knitted together. I didn’t speak, just waited, though I was itching to fill the silence.

“Mr. Scamander has asked for you to be added to his detail.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It isn’t standard procedure.”

“No, sir.”

“He and I will be heading up separate teams in this investigation, and...” he looked at me, then.

“Well, you know this all already.”

“Yes, sir.” Graves leaned back in his seat, scrubbing his hand over his face. He seemed more harried than I usually saw him.

“Are you alright, Percival?” I asked lightly. He glanced up, looking my face over before nodding.

“Would you like to work with him?”

“Sorry?”

“You’re going to be on one of our teams, I’m giving you the option to choose which team you work with.”

This had to be a trick. Something Picquery devised? A test of my loyalties after that spectacle at the party? Or had Percival come up with it himself? Or did... did he just want me to feel comfortable on a team? My eyes had dropped to his desk, to the fanned out papers and abandoned pens.

“If you need time to consider—“ He’d started, but I beat him to it.

“I want to be on your team, sir.” I looked up at him and hated the split-second of palpable surprise that overtook his face.

“You can change teams if you like.”

“It’s an option I won’t be taking, but I appreciate that.”

He nodded, watching me.

“How well do you know him?” There was something softer in his tone, a shift that told me that he was less concerned about the potential workplace dynamic.

“Well enough.”

“Would you say you’re friends?”

“I suppose.”

“Were you ever more?” I didn’t speak right away. I wasn’t sure I could. It didn’t feel like an inquisition or an accusation, but I didn’t like it. I could feel my expression steeling, chin tipping up in a challenge.

“Is that all you needed, sir?” 

It was answer enough. He lowered his eyes to his papers, picking up a pen and straightening in his seat.

“That’ll be all. Thank you.”

“Sir,” I said before I stood. The door opened before me and closed behind. I didn’t return to my desk, instead walking clean past it, ignoring Abernathy as he called my name, sliding past Tina before she could take in my expression or say a word. I kept walking, stopping only while I was in the elevator.

The wind was like a slap. I’d left my hat and coat at my desk. I didn’t even know where I was walking to, just knew that I was moving, and was terrified what might happen if I stopped.

I wound up on a park bench, hands clasped tightly, the grip an attempt to stop their shaking. If it had been a test, I had both passed and failed. It was bad enough that Scamander had asked for me on his detail, worse that Percival— that Graves. Graves now knew, or could at least ascertain the nature of mine and Theseus’ past relationship.

I wouldn’t call it love.

Whatever it was, it had been the most I’d ever felt for anyone else. That vulnerability had nearly cost me everything.

I leaned back, slouching against the wood of the bench, arms wrapping around myself. I had to go back. I knew that. It wasn’t pretty when I did.

Abernathy tore into me for a solid fifteen minutes, and I sat there, stone-faced through it as I lectured me on responsibility, the fact that I was only a junior Auror, part of a team, couldn’t just come and go as I pleased. People stared, listened. I didn’t look at any of them, especially not Graves, whose form I spotted in the doorway of his office.

I didn’t meet his eye as we stood across from one another in the elevator, or say anything when our shoulders bumped on the way out of it, striding out of his reach before he could take my hand and whisk us to his mother’s, instead rounding a corner, taking a quick look around, and apparating home.

I had sent along a letter to Eugenia once I returned to my desk, informing her that I wasn’t well, sure I was contagious, and wouldn’t be able to visit that weekend.


	8. Chapter 8

“You look a damn sight better than I thought you would,” Eugenia remarked, and my eyes widened marginally at the expletive.

“I’ve been resting,” I managed. Eugenia hummed, unconvinced.

“Can I, um— I’ll get you some— would you like tea?” Eugenia didn’t answer, so I turned, busying myself in the kitchen.

“Have you made up your mind about the Christmas party?”

“I, um... I think I may join, yes,” I glanced over my shoulder, shooting Eugenia a smile.

Eugenia nodded.

“I would’ve passed this on last night, had you not been ‘ill’,” Eugenia’s tone told me that she’d never believed that in the first place, “But we’ll also be having a masquerade ball, come Halloween.”

“I believe I’m on patrol that night, but I will get back to you,” I promised, levitating two mugs over to the table, along with a plate of biscuits.  

I sat across from Eugenia, who’d already seated herself. There was an awkward silence, like Eugenia’s first Saturday visit.

“Theseus Scamander,” Eugenia said. When she didn’t elaborate, I shook my head, a little confused.

“What about him?”

“Does he care for you?”

“You’re asking the wrong person. I’m not privy to his private thoughts.”

“My son seems to be under the impression that you are, or were, privy to them at some point.”

“Does your son ever work out these issues out directly, or does he rely on your working through them for him? This is the second time, Eugenia, that you’ve placed yourself between us.”

“Because the two of you are clearly too stubborn to speak to one another.” I took in a deep breath to steady herself.

“Your son... asked me at work— at  _work_ if there was ever anything between Theseus and I. It was wholly unprofessional and none of his business.” Eugenia picked her tea up, taking a sip as she mulled this over.

“You must know by now that my son cares for you.”

“As an employer.” Eugenia gave me a look that made me feel like an idiot.

“I’m unsure of as what, but I am quite certain we are beyond the bounds of workplace propriety.” I didn’t reply, so Eugenia went on:

“You didn’t really believe that, did you?... My son is a private man, yes. He has to be. As head of Magical Law Enforcement, he has a hard job, keeps difficult hours. But before now I have not seen him so distracted from his work. Do you care for my son?”

“I— yes, I like him, he’s—“

“But do you  _care_  for him.” I couldn’t say it yet, so I closed her mouth and nodded. I couldn’t read Eugenia’s expression, watching the woman rise.

“Be careful with him.” And then she was gone, the only evidence she’d been there was the cup at the other side of her table.

\-------

“Morning.” I didn’t look up at Graves as he passed me. I replied with a simple,

“Sir.”

It had been three weeks of ‘Morning.’ ‘Sir.’

He didn’t give me orders directly, he didn’t discuss strategy with me, we hardly met one another’s eye. I hadn’t been back to his mother’s home, or had any visits from Eugenia. We did write, though; I had come to be fond of the Graves matriarch, and the positive female influence that I’d never had in my life. Yes, she could be abrasive, but I could see it was out of concern for her son.

With every letter, Eugenia asked if I’d come to the masquerade. It turned out that I didn’t have patrol that night, but then, I was sure Percival would be there as well. Of course they’d likely be the only two I’d know, which made the event seem twice as daunting.

Queenie always pressed light, happy thoughts into my head when she came by, and Tina, who seemed to have some idea of what was going on, was careful to keep any and all conversation away from Graves unless it was absolutely necessary.

Theseus wasn’t helping anything. I wasn’t speaking to him much, but now and again he’d leave notes on my desk wishing me a good day, and asking me to coffee, or for a drink or dancing.  

I knew his handwriting, and after a while, simply threw them away. Picquery’s open disapproval at my joining his team after I’d given Graves my answer had set off a series of whispers within the department.

There were days when I wished I had stayed in the secretarial pool, had never been spotted by Graves, never been made an Auror.

If Tina had asked for someone else’s help, Percival would’ve remained a distant figure of authoritative attraction, and Theseus wouldn’t be causing such a ruckus.

\-------

“Morning.”

“Sir,” I said, not looking away from my work. There was a pause before I realized he was still beside my desk. I looked up hesitantly to find him with his hat in his hands. He looked more harried than usual.

“My office, please,” he requested. I stood, grabbing my notebook and following him. Theseus was sitting at Percival’s desk, flipping through what looked like a well-worn copy of The Tales of Beedle and Bard. Picquery was by Percival’s desk, thumbing through a file.

Percival wordlessly took the copy out of his hands and replaced it in the shelf. He fixed Theseus with a look, and despite this, Theseus took his time getting out of Percival’s seat.

“You’re looking well,” he greeted, rounding the desk.

“Scamander,” I greeted flatly.

Picquery glanced up, giving me a nod, which I returned with a quiet, “Ma’am.”

“You’re aware of our progress with the case?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then you know we’ve uncovered a cell of Grindlewald’s followers. We’re sending a team in to apprehend them and return them here. You’ll be with Graves.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“This is confidential,” Picquery said firmly, lowering the file, “No one in this office can know about this.”

I frowned, brow furrowing.

“You’re— are you worried there’s a mole?” Graves and Picquery shared a look as Theseus lowered himself into one of the chairs in front of Percival’s desk.

“Told you she was a quick one.”

“I don’t need you to remind me of the skills of my own Aurors, Scamander,” Graves snapped. I looked between the two of them before looking back at Picquery, who subtly shook her head.

“Top secret. Am I understood?”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“You’ll get further instruction as we get closer to the assignment. In the meantime, keep your ear to the ground, and stay sharp.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Dismissed.”

I turned on my heel, opening the door and shutting it gingerly behind myself.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He took hold of my arm gently, tightening the straps of the brace with care. I held carefully still, fully aware of how close and hot his body seemed to be, the heat of him bleeding through my pant leg. His fingers slid smoothly over the skin of my forearm. He glanced up at me, and I realized he’d been speaking.

The subsequent days in the office were odd ones. I found myself watching my words carefully, and being more quiet in general. Tina noticed, as did Queenie, but the two chalked it up to continued upset over the situation with Percival. They were neither wholly wrong, nor wholly right.

The only warning I got was Graves stopping me in the hall with a hand on ny arm.

“Tonight,” he said quietly. It was like a shock to the system, that one word, but I nodded before continuing down the hall.

I met with the others in Graves’ office; there were eight of us total, for three of Grindlewald’s fanatics. We discussed our plan, entry, capture, and exit before we were given a little time to prepare.

I went into the office to grab a brace from my desk— something I’d used in the war to repel any spells cast at my wand arm. I tucked my wand behind my ear as I leaned back against my desk, one leg propped up on my desk chair, my wrist resting in the gauntlet on my knee as I tried to tighten it. It had been a while since I’d used it and my fingers were clumsy on the laces.

“Let me,” I looked up as Graves stepped into the space between my legs. I looked around, checking if there was anyone that might see us, but we were alone. He took hold of my arm gently, tightening the straps of the brace with care. I held carefully still, fully aware of how close and hot his body seemed to be, the heat of him bleeding through my pant leg. His fingers slid smoothly over the skin of my forearm. He glanced up at me, and I realized he’d been speaking.

“Hm? Sorry?” His lips quirked upward a bit.

“I asked if it was too tight.” I shook my head, looking back down at where he was still working at the laces.

“No. No, it’s fine.”

He nodded, letting his hands fall away to tuck safely into his pockets.  
  
“I don’t want any surprises tonight.”  
  
“Surprises? What kind of surprises? Should I cancel the string orchestra?” Graves cut me a look that I could’ve construed as annoyance, if I didn’t recognize his amusement by now.  
  


“I mean it,” he said gently. I nodded a little before mumbling, “No guarantees.”

————

I was still going on the adrenaline of all of it. It was too much like a battlefield; the rush of it, the yelling of curses.

I’d been hit with a body-binding curse and taken a hard fall. The medical bay had determined nothing was broken and given me a pain killer before sending me home. I knew I’d feel it more in the morning, but for now, I was pacing about my apartment. I couldn’t sit still; I hadn’t taken my brace off. I was jumping at shadows. Graves had been upset with me when they left. Not that that was new— but that curse had been meant for him.

I startled when I heard a knock at my door. I pulled my wand out of my pocket, gripping it carefully as I crept to the door. I saw him through the peephole. He’d never been inside my building before, I wasn’t sure how he knew my apartment number. I bit my lip before opening the door, stepping back, my wand hidden from view.

If it wasn’t him, I’d know in seconds; there was arevealing spell on my door.

It was, though. He didn’t look around and scrutinize like his mother had. Instead he closed the door behind himself, locking it with a flick of his wrist before he reached out, taking the wand out of my hand. He set it down on the counter, then took hold of my hand, tugging me toward the table. He sat down, and pulled me closer to stand between his legs. He picked up my brace covered hand and unlaced it. I could already see the bruises forming, even if I couldn’t feel them yet. He set the brace aside, fingers skimming gingerly over the skin.

“What did I say to you?” He asked, steel threaded through his tone.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, and meant it. His head bowed forward, and I shivered as I felt his breath over my skin, then his lips.

I swallowed thickly.

“Percival...”

He didn’t answer, just kept my hand in his as his forehead rested against my stomach. I reached down, carding my fingers through his hair.

We stayed like that for a while. In short order I found that I’d had stopped shaking, though he still was, a little. His arms had wound around my waist, tethering me. My feet were beginning hurt a little.

It didn’t take much convincing to get him back to my room, his shoes off and his waistcoat removed. He seemed a little hesitant, but we climbed into my small bed together, fully clothed. His head rested on my stomach again, and he closed his eyes. I found that I could, too.

————

Everything hurt, and the room was far too bright. I could smell lavender, and peppermint. The warmth and weight of Percival was gone. I hissed as I sat up, wincing.

“Be careful,” I looked up as Percival came in, a mug of something in his hand. He set it on the bedside table before reaching out, helping me to sit upright. I looked at the mug, then at him, still blinking the sleep out of my eyes. He eyed my hair almost amusedly, and I raised my hands quickly to cover it, not anticipating the pain that came with the action. Percival shushed my hiss of pain, grabbing a ribbon from the bedside table and scooching closer. He carefully gathered my curls, wrapping them in the dark ribbon and tying them back.

“Here,” he said, passing me the mug.

“This should help with the aches, some.”

I took it, bowing my head to take a sip. It was still hot, but not so hot that it’d scald my tongue. I hummed at the taste.

“You managed to find my cauldron. I’m impressed,” I smiled up at him tiredly. He hmphed, reaching up to brush a stray curl out of my face.

“It wasn’t easy, mind,” he said. There were a few moments of silence, my hand finding his on the bed and grasping it gently. Something had shifted between us the night before, a mutual revelation of vulnerability.

“When do we need to be in for debrief?” I asked, running my thumb over the back of his hand. He covered it with his free one.

“This afternoon. Picquery will want you to stay longer, though, see your first real interrogation.”

“Are you telling me what I’ve seen up until now wasn’t real?” I teased. Graves shot me a look.

“You know what I mean,” he said gently, “but if you’re still hurt from yesterday—“

I shook my head a bit.

“I can get around, Percival.”

“Take the time to heal,” he urged me gently.

“You can’t baby me through this, you know,” I said, lowering the mug. He nodded, almost regretful.

“‘sides, if the others aren’t resting, I shouldn’t be able to, either,” I pointed out, setting the mug back in my bedside table. He didn’t remark on that, and I knew I had proven my point.

“I need to go home and change before the debrief,” he said. I nodded, looking down to where our hands were still resting together.

“I’ll see you at the office, then.” Graves nodded. He stood, finally letting go of my hands to brace himself against the headboard. He leaned down, warning, “Don’t move around too quickly,” before pressing a kiss to my forehead. I watched him leave my bedroom, and a few moments later, heard the ‘snap’ of him Apparating.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The followers that we had captured had been separated, and we’d split up to interrogate them. I’d been tasked with shadowing Graves and Picquery. Abernathy had administered Veritaserum, and we had waited as it took effect.

**Rating: T**

**  
Notes:**  Not beta read  
  
 **Warnings:** None? I don’t think?

 **Summary:** He took hold of my arm gently, tightening the straps of the brace with care. I held carefully still, fully aware of how close and hot his body seemed to be, the heat of him bleeding through my pant leg. His fingers slid smoothly over the skin of my forearm. He glanced up at me, and I realized he’d been speaking.

(gif) 

The area outside of the MACUSA holding cells was bleak: the lighting wasn’t particularly bright; it was drafty; those who hadn’t been put under a silencing spell could be heard yelling inside. I was leaning against the far wall in front of the entrance; there was seating available, but I worried that if I sat down, I wouldn’t want to get up again.

“Alright?”

Theseus was the first to arrive after me.

“Morning,” I greeted in turn. Theseus leaned against the wall beside me.

“How are you feeling? Took a pretty hard hit yesterday.”

I smiled a little at his concern.

“You’ve seen me take harder hits,” I pointed out. Theseus’ smile was tight, but he nodded.

“Sleep okay?” I asked. He chuckled.

“Never do, after a fight like that... You’ve settled in well here.”

“I have.”

“...You used to talk about moving to London.”

I didn’t answer for a moment, my throat suddenly feeling thick.

“ _We_  used to talk about a lot of things,” I finally managed.

“It wasn’t all bad with us, was it?” He murmured. I shook my head.

“Of course not,” I said, looking at him with a soft smile, “I dare say we had quite a bit of fun.”

————

“Where is he.” Graves’ voice was cold, harsh. I’d never heard him that way before and it unsettled me.

The followers that we had captured had been separated, and we’d split up to interrogate them. I’d been tasked with shadowing Graves and Picquery. Abernathy had administered Veritaserum, and we had waited as it took effect.

“I don’t know.”

I held my ground, arms folded over my chest in the corner of the interrogation room.

“How long have you been following his exploits?”

“Three years.”

Three. We had only been made aware of Grindlewald as a threat a year ago.

“Where did you first hear about him?”

“France.”

“Have you ever met him?”

“No.”

I bit my lip, fighting the urge to ask question. I was there to observe.   
  
“Why are you in New York.”   
  
“To recruit.” None of us spoke for a moment.   
  
“He wants what’s best for us. For wizards. He doesn’t want us to have to  _hide_ ,” The man went on.   
  
“Be quiet,” Picquery ordered, but the man went on over her:   
  
“He will free us— The No-Maj will be submissive to us, not us to them—“ Picquery silenced the man with a wave of her wand. She turned back to face the two of us.

“This will get us nowhere now,” She said quietly.

“Then we hold him. All of them,” Graves said firmly, keeping his eyes firmly set on the man strapped to the chair.

“We can’t just keep them here,” Picquery pointed out.

“We can’t let him go, either,” Graves argued. Picquery glanced in my direction and I averted my eyes. I felt like I was intruding, being there. This argument was one they needed to have without me there.

“We will discuss this privately,” She said, confirming my suspicions.

“My office, 8 tomorrow.” Graves have a single nod. Picquery made for the door, stopping beside me.

“How are you feeling?” She asked.

“Fine, ma’am.”

“No serious injuries, I hope?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Good. Well done last night,” She tacked on before she left. Graves turned to watch her go, and I took him in, eyeing the thin line his lips were pressed into. I could see that he wasn’t satisfied with what we’d been told, or that Picquery was questioning his decision.

“What now?” I asked quietly. He glanced at me.

“We wait,” he said gruffly before pushing past me and leaving the holding cell. I cast Grindlewald’s follower one more look before I followed.

———

“What happened to your wrist?” Queenie gasped. I tugged my sleeve back down where it had slid up while I was reaching for a file.

“I fell,” I excused easily before I took hold of the file. I wasn’t sure if the raid had been public knowledge, and I wouldn’t be the first to say anything. If Picquery wanted people to know, she could tell them.

“Did you break it or somethin’?” She asked, watching me closely. I shook my head, giving her a small smile.

“Just bruised pretty bad. I’m fine, Queenie.” 

“Hey, we’re having people over for Halloween. A little bash,” Queenie smiled, “you should come!”

Halloween. I’d forgotten it was that weekend. I shook my head.

“I want to, but I can’t. I’m on shift that night.”

Queenie pouted, but nodded.

“We’ll save a caramel apple for you,” She promised.

———

“Patrol? Can’t you ask to move it to another night?” Eugenia asked, brow furrowed. I shook my head.

“I’m only a junior auror, I’m pretty sure that’s not in my place.”

“Surely there’s something that can be done,” She frowned at me before turning the full power of it on Percival.

“Change her shift,” She said flatly, and without any explanation.

“Eugenia,” I said lightly, trying to stop her.

“No! Percival was well-aware of the party.”

“He isn’t in charge of the shifts,” I said. Percival was looking between us, unspeaking as Eugenia and I went back and forth.

“She’s right, I’m not. And I wouldn’t move it unless it was an emergency,” Percival said.  “It would be unfair to the other Aurors.”

“The other Aurors wouldn’t know,” Eugenia sniffed. Graves and I exchanged looks before I diverted my eyes, picking up my glass of wine and taking a sip.

Rumors had flown around the office about Percival and I since the deWitt incident, and they’d only gotten worse since Theseus had been there. It felt like every time I rounded a corner, people were discussing my torrid affair with Percival or the tragic end to my romance with Theseus.

“She’s on shift. That’s final,” Graves said as he passed Eugenia to go the sidebar.

——

“Where did you and Picquery net out? Or am I not allowed to know?” I asked. Graves didn’t answer for a moment, just looked down at our hands where they were intertwined on the couch cushion.

Eugenia had gotten a call from Ermentine and left us in the drawing room as she took it. It had hardly been a minute before Graves was up from his arm chair to join me on the couch.

“They’re to be put before a tribunal, their fates decided from there.” He took his free hand, gently easing the fabric of my sleeve up. The bruises were nearly all gone, though there were still a few spots of purple, blue, green. Percival raised our joined hands, bringing my forearm up to his lips and pressing gentle kisses to each lingering mark. I shivered, freeing my hand from his to cup his cheek. He turned his head, brushing his lips over the soft of my wrist.

I could hear his mother nattering on with her sister in the next room, and the crackling of the fireplace, and the blood rushing in my ears. Percival’s eyes raised to meet mine, holding my gaze as he turned his head father, kissing my palm. I smiled.

“I should leave soon,” I said softly. He nodded, lowering his eyes and nuzzling into my hand. I shifted a little closer, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. He lifted his head to look at me before he gently rested his forehead against mine.

“I’m sorry about mother’s party.” I shook my head.

“It’s alright. I knew it was a long shot that I’d be able to go, anyway.” I stroked my thumb over his cheekbone, closing my eyes for a moment, just reveling in his closeness. I sat up when I heard Eugenia’s heels in the hallway, reluctantly dropping my hand from Percival’s cheek.

“Good, I haven’t missed you,” She said, coming inside. I smiled, shaking my head and standing.

“I am about to leave, though. Thank you for dinner. It was delicious, as always.” Eugenia nodded.

“I will see you next week,” She said, though she cut a look to Percival. I glanced back at him, smiling as he rolled his eyes.

“Goodnight,” I said, stepping away from Eugenia. I gave Percival one more look before I left.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I strode away from the church as quickly as I allowed myself. It felt as if that woman’s staring was burning holes through my jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long!

“It’s so wonderful to see you here again.” I turned around to see a middle-aged woman with a warm smile and coldness behind her eyes. I gave her a smile of my own.

“Pardon?” I asked.

“It’s been some time since I’ve seen you at services. We were beginning to think we’d lost you to the other side.” She held her hand out to me.

“I’m Mary Lou,” she added. I nodded, shaking her hand despite the chill that had just run down my spine.

“Of course. I’m sorry, I recognized you, but I couldn’t—“

“It’s alright, my dear. I saw you speaking with Creedence earlier?”

“Yes, I arrived a little late and was asking if he had any pamphlets left, I’d like to bring one to my mother. He was very helpful.”

“Glad to hear it. I hope to see you next weekend.”

“Of course. Thank you, Mary Lou.”

I strode away from the church as quickly as I allowed myself. It felt as if that woman’s staring was burning holes through my jacket.

——-

“Horrible,” Queenie said quietly as I rubbed her back. She’d peered into my mind, dove in too quickly and was now shaking from the look Mary Lou had given me and the feeling I’d gotten. Tina set a cup of coffee down in front of Queenie before snatching up the pamphlet from where I’d discarded it on the table.

“Was this the only one they had?” She asked. I shrugged.

“I got there late, if they had another I didn’t get one.”

“Will you go back next week and make sure?” I hesitated before nodding. While I hated the prospect of sitting through another hour of anti-magic sentiment, I knew Tina couldn’t go again. She could never hold her temper in those situations. She’d abruptly stood and left the ‘service’ last time we’d gone together, and Mary Lou had made note, I was sure.

Queenie picked up the coffee, taking a sip in silence.

“How’s ya wrist?” She asked, reaching out and taking hold of my forearm. I shook my head.

“It’s alright. Bruises are almost gone.”

“What’d you do to your wrist?” Tina asked. Apparently that had been enough to distract her from the reading materials. I shrugged.

“Fell, landed on it.” Tina was quiet for a moment.

“You hear they uncovered a cell of Grindlewald’s followers?” She asked. I shook my head.

“Haven’t heard that,” I fibbed.

“Really? Everyone’s been talking about it.”

“Well, you know me, Tina, I’m not tapped into office gossip the way you are.”

Tina closed her mouth, facing paling. I got up, giving Queenie’s shoulder a light squeeze.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” I said before I left.

——-

“Graves is looking for you.”

I glanced up when Abernathy spoke, settings my report aside before I stood, grabbing my small notebook and heading Graves into his office. I froze in the doorway when I saw Tina stepping out. She glanced at me on the way before heading for her desk. I hesitated in the doorway before I shut the door behind myself, stepping farther inside and sitting in down.

Graves rounded his desk, looking down at something there. I recognized the materials there, the literature of the Second Salemers.

“You remember these?” He asked, holding it up. My brow furrowed.

“What do you mean, remember?” I asked, shaking my head and looking up at Graves. He didn’t answer at first, searching my face for any sign of deception. He put it down, turning it toward me for me to look at. I picked it up, looking it over.

“Second Salemers,” I commented.

“Ms. Goldstein just came in to ask me to investigate further,” Graves said. I felt myself panicking. What was Tina thinking, bringing this up to Graves like this?

“She hasn’t said anything to you recently?”

“... Maybe she’s mentioned them once or twice, but that’s all.” I didn’t like lying to Percival, but I could read the concern on his face.

“Is there.. I mean are you launching an investigation?” I asked. Graves shook his head.

“They may be loud mouths, but they’re not preaching to people that will give any traction to their cause.” He sat, looking at the pamphlet in my hands. I set it down, folding my hands in my lap, uneasy.

“What did you tell Tina?”

“Just what I’ve told you. And to stop whatever she thinks it is that she’s doing.” I nodded.

“Tina has a good head on her shoulders. I’m sure she’ll heed your advice.”

“Will you tell me if she doesn’t?”

My eyes darted to his, head turning a little.

“Are you... Asking me to spy on Tina?” Graves shrugged, like this was something he asked all the time.

“She trusts you. And any actions she may be considering taking could endanger the safety of our entire community.” I couldn’t answer for a moment, and he could see my unease. He waved it off, leaning forward.

“Forget I asked.” I nodded, knowing full well that I never could.

“How was your mother’s masquerade?” I asked, trying to change the subject for the better. He smiled a little.

“It was enjoyable. She was quite put out that you weren’t there.”

“She’s sweet.” We were quiet for a moment. I couldn’t even imagine what was on his mind; I couldn’t shake his ask that I follow Tina to ensure that she was longer engaging with the Second Salemers. It was worse still when I knew that she wasn’t, because I had been for her.

“I have a report I should finish,” I broke my silence first.

“Of course,” Graves said. I stood, and he followed suit, rounding his desk. He took hold of my hand, running his finger over the back of my hand.

“May I walk you home tonight?” He asked softly. I was surprised, brows raising. I normally Apparated, myself.

“Of course,” I nodded. Graves smiled, giving my hand a small squeeze before he let go.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We went quietly the rest of the way. When we crossed the street, I heard him lengthening his strides to catch up with me. He caught hold of my hand, pulling at me a little to slow down. I did, looking up at him and smiling.

"I don’t like this.” I smiled as Percival grumbled from a couple of steps behind me.

“It’s only one more block,” I commented. We went quietly the rest of the way. When we crossed the street, I heard him lengthening his strides to catch up with me. He caught hold of my hand, pulling at me a little to slow down. I did, looking up at him and smiling.

Since Percival had started walking me home, I’d insisted that Percival wait a few blocks before we start walking together. He hadn’t taken my hand right away, of course. But people from MACUSA tended to take to alleys in the surrounding area to Apparate home, and I didn’t want to take the chance on one of them seeing Percival and I so close.

I intertwined our fingers, swinging our hands back and forth lightly as we walked. Mid-November has forced the two of us into gloves, which was a shame; I preferred walking with Percival’s hand pressed into mine.

“You should know that Mother will start asking you about Christmas again, and soon. Especially now that she knows that you don’t usually have plans for it,” he warned. I nodded.

“I’d suspected as much. She’s not very subtle, your mother.” Percival smiled, turning his head and pressing a kiss to my hair as we waited for traffic to pass.

“She’s fond of you,” He said. I tipped my head up, smiling at him in turn.

“I’m fond of her, too.”

We walked on in silence for a little while.

“I haven’t told her,” he said.

“About what?” I asked.

“About this,” he said, lifting our joined hands and giving them a little shake. I nodded, not sure that it mattered. A part of me figured that she already knew just because she seemed to know everything.

“What exactly is… this?” I asked, repeating his movement. He stopped walking, and I did as well, turning to face him. He looked so torn, and I felt stupid for even asking. I rested my other hand on his arm, giving it a light squeeze and mumbling, “We don’t have to talk about it.” We started on again in silence, and I felt like I’d put a damper on our time together. I’d never even considered the possibility of anything serious with anyone since Theseus, and even then it was like we were making plans to give us a light at the end of the war.

“Would you like to come in?” I asked as we reached my building. I always asked, and as always, Percival said no. I nodded, leaning up and pecking his cheek before I went inside, shutting the door behind myself. I walked up to my apartment and spent the evening feeling distinctly stupid.

——

“You need to keep your head down,” I warned softly. Tina’s eyes narrowed.

“If Graves won’t do anything about this—“

“He can’t, Tina. They’re not a big enough threat—“

“What about the children? And Creedence? She’s  _hurting_  that boy.” It was easy to see; the way he shied away from people, flinched when Mary Lou came close, dejectedly called her ‘mama’. I folded my arms over my chest, looking deeper into the office.

“Whatever you’re… planning—“

“I’m just monitoring the situation.” I shot her a look.

“Making me sit through that drivel is just ‘monitoring the situation’?”

“Well I  _can’t_  go anymore, you know that,” Tina hissed.

“Why them? What’s got you so fixated?” I asked. They were hardly the first anti-witch group to hit New York and draw others of the No-Maj community in.

“They’re dangerous. And your Mr. Graves—“

“Watch it.”

“Is too distracted to see it.”

“… if you’re going to act that Grindlewald is less of a threat than the Second Salemers, then you need to adjust your priorities. If he enslaves the No-Maj, they’ll find out about us either way.”

——

“I don’t like this,” Matilda grumbled. I glanced at her before turning my eyes back to the eerily silent corridor in front of us. I’d known Matilda when we were in school; she’d been in been in my year, but in Horned Serpent. She and I had never crossed paths until MACUSA. 

She and I had been partnered up for nearly two months and got on well enough. She didn’t pull her punches with me, had told me flat out that she didn’t care about the office rumors; that we needed to trust one another and have the other’s backs if we expected to get anywhere in the field.  
  
Matilda was a bright, quick, attractive woman, a favorite of Picquery’s. There was a snide rumor going around that she and I had been paired together because Graves and Picquery considered us a ‘dream team’ of sorts; I was certain it was because Picquery wanted to keep a closer eye on me.   
  
“I don’t, either,” I said quietly.   
  
We’d had four reports of the use of the Imperio curse on No-Maj’s to pilfer and pass funds off to a cell of gangsters in Coney Island. Matilda and I were sent in to investigate a series of tunnels that the smugglers were using.   
  
“… Any Thanksgiving plans?” I asked lightly. She shot me a look, and I closed my mouth.   
  
“Not the time–”   
  
“I know. I just–”   
  
“Talk when you’re nervous, I’ve noticed,” Matilda surmised, shaking her head a little, “You’ll need to shake yourself of that eventually.” I huffed, raising my illuminated wand tip to inspect the ceiling of the tunnel.   
  
“Will, but it won’t be today,” I said lightly, “And is that a no for Thanksgiving plans?” I could practically feel her eye roll beside me.   
  
“It’s a–”   
  
Matilda didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence: we were hit by a blinding light. Any answer she had was drowned by a high-pitched screech. I fell to the ground, hands flying up to cover my ears against the horrid sound. I peered up ahead and saw people emerging from the light before I lost consciousness. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I opened my eyes, wincing as they adjusted to the dim room. My head was throbbing like never before. I made to bring my hands up to rub my eyes but found them tied behind my back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW It has been a long time since I’ve posted I’m so sorry!! I’m going to try to get back on a regular posting schedule going forward. 
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Light torture; light cursing
> 
> Not beta-read

I was awoken by nudging at my foot. I grunted, irritable. There was a pause, then another nudge.   
  
“Not now,” I whined. A longer pause, followed by Matilda’s, “ _Yes_  now.”   
  
I opened my eyes, wincing as they adjusted to the dim room. My head was throbbing like never before. I made to bring my hands up to rub my eyes but found them tied behind my back.   
  
“Where are we?” I asked quietly.   
  
“Haven’t quite worked that out, but in my defense, I’ve been awake for maybe a minute longer than you have.”

“A minute’s plenty, ‘Tilds. Honestly,” I teasingly berated her. I sat up a little bit more, trying to get a sense of our surroundings. The room was bare; no decorations, no windows.

“Wands?” I asked **.**

“Don’t have mine,” Matilda said. I likely didn’t either, then. We’d been holding them in the tunnel. I wriggled my wrists. The bonds were too tight to break.

“Could try Apparating?” Matilda asked.

“I don’t like the idea of landing somewhere on my ass with my hands tied. Don’t like the idea of leaving my wand behind, either.”

“Well it’s not like you have a better plan,” Matilda retorted snidely. I didn’t answer for a moment, weighing my options. Summoning our wands could mean potentially altering our captors to the fact that we were awake. Apparating, regardless of where we wound up, would force us to leave our wands behind for a time, and bound until we found a way of freeing ourselves. There was a possibility that the captors had also managed to put a Trace on us while we were out. It was a risk I wasn’t willing to take.

Wandless magic had not always come easy to me; I had worked at it for years, as a means of setting myself apart from my fellow students. It was a skill that often took a lot out of those that practiced it. Depending on the spell, I was no different.

I closed my eyes for a moment, summoning what strength I had. I only had a couple of chances at this - it was possible that the spell wouldn’t be strong enough to accomplish what I needed it to.

“ _Expecto patronum_ ,” I murmured. I could feel wind ruffle my hair as the glowing form of a lynx flowed from the fingertips of my right hand. It rounded me, looking myself and Matilda over. I looked at it dazedly, feeling distinctly more drowsy than I had when I’d woken up.   
  
“Find him. Go,” I urged. The lynx bounded over our heads, vanishing through the brick wall behind us. I slouched against the space it had disappeared through, my head splitting and spinning.

 **“** Who’s it going to find?” Matilda asked after a few minutes of silence.   
  
“… With any luck, Mr. Graves,” I managed.

——

“Up.” My limbs moved of their own accord, my body pushing itself up as I was directed. I wobbled, unsteady on legs that were shaky from hours of disuse; still dizzy from Patronus, I couldn’t fully grasp what was going on.   
  
“That way— Now,” The man ordered, wand still tracked on me. I walked through the doorway he directed me to as I was being drawn by some invisible magnet. I could see the alarm in Matlida’s eyes as she followed the same orders; my eyes darted to her lips as she mouthed, ‘ _Imperius’._

The office we were led into was richly furnished; the shelves were crammed with books; from what I could see, the roll-top desk was laid with maps and plans. There was a large chair behind the desk, it’s back to us, and I could see it swaying slightly. Whoever was sitting in it wasn’t doing a good job a keeping still, if that was their intention.  **  
  
**“Sit.” I glanced back at the man as I lowered myself into a stiff-backed chair. I didn’t know why he was bothering to verbally direct us when we were following his every order regardless.  
  
I glanced around, taking in what I could without moving my head too much. The windows were blacked out; there was a sideboard with a bottle of wine in a crystal decanter; the stopper, I could see, was an elaborate phoenix.

“Well then.”   
  
My eyes snapped to the sound of the voice. The chair had been turned to reveal a slender, well-dressed woman. She couldn’t have been much older than I was; her hair was impeccably coiffed. She propped her chin on her hand, glancing between myself and Matlida, eyes sparkling with what seemed like amusement.   
  
“First youse all take the time to track down and lock up my brother, and now they come sniffing around for little ol’ me? And here I thought we were doing a good job at keeping a low profile.” She cast her eyes around to her assembled goons, who promptly chuckled.

“Your brother?” Matilda asked. The woman hummed in affirmation.   
  
“Well, not such a surprise you managed to catch him. He always did have a short temper and a loudmouth,” The woman leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs, “Whereas I, on the other hand, have—“   
  
“A flair for the dramatic?” I asked. She hummed, tipping his head to the side.   
  
“I was going to say the ability to keep my mouth shut.” I didn’t even see her move before I was hit by blinding pain. I folded in on myself, hardly managing to contain a scream of agony. My bones felt as though they were all twisting in different positions, my teeth, as if they were trying to pull themselves free, my skin, as if it was on fire. It stopped as soon as it started; one of the goons gripped me by the shoulder, yanking me to sit up straight again.   
  
My eyes, still tearing, fell to the woman’s hands, and widened sat the sight of her lowering  _my_  wand.   
  
“Lovely piece isn’t this,” She said thoughtfully, turning it over in her hands.

“Hornbeam?” Her eyes lifted to mine, and waited for my short nod of confirmation before continuing, “It did not like that, you know. I can feel it, pulling from me. Now, I am seeing some fair aging on it,” She tipped it to inspect its base, then handle, “I suspect you’re not its first owner. What’s it cored with?”   
  
“Dragon Heartstring.” She hummed, setting it atop the desk and turning her head to address Matilda: “I was apprenticed to a wandmaker before the war. Had the knack for it, too, but it’s been a while. As you can probably tell, I’m a little rusty.” 

Matilda said nothing in return.

The woman’s eyes swept back to me.   
  
“My temper is as short as my brother’s, though I've got a bit more mercy than him. I’d keep my mouth in check if I was you.” I wanted to retort that casting a Cruciatus hardly constituted as merciful, but a warning look from Matilda kept me silent.   
  
“Excellent,” The woman said brightly. She stood, rounding the desk and leaning back against it.   
  
“Now, I must ask how many other people know where you were,” She said. Matilda and I shared a look.   
  
“May I ask why that matters? I only wonder,” I added quickly, “Because I’m sure we’re miles away from where you picked us up.” She smiled.   
  
“It is nice to know that the MACUSA does not, at least, hire idiots. I will simply say, yes, it does matter, no, you may not know why. Ten points for politeness, though. So! How many?”   
  
Neither of us spoke. The woman tsk’d.   
  
“Have to bust out the Veritaserum, I’m afraid.” Veritaserum could be a disaster - there was no guarantee that the questions would stop after she got the answer to the question she’s just posed.   
  
“Two,” I said quickly. I was awarded a smile.   
  
“What are you  _doing_?” Matilda snapped. The woman picked up my wand, pointing it at Matilda’s throat.   
  
“The adults are speaking,” She sneered. Matilda’s mouth continued to move, but her eyes widened as she came to realize that she was voiceless. The woman turned back to me.   
  
“How close do you think the others have gotten, then? This isn’t the first time we’ve caught wind of your kind sniffing around our supply routes.”   
  
“Ma’am, I don’t know where we are, I don’t know… How long we’ve been here, or whether anyone’s even noticed we’re gone. What I  _do_  know is that when they find us, you better hope like hell you’re not around.” The smile remained plastered on the woman’s face, but her eyes cooled.

  
“… I did warn you about my temper, didn’t I?” 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bridget smiled. I could see the family resemblance: the same eyes, same hair, similar cheekbones, but there was coldness in her where in Mick there had been idiocy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know these chapters are kinda Percival-lite but there will be MUCH more Percival going forward, I promise.  
> Not beta-read

“Are you a gambling woman?”  
  
I shivered. Her voice had come to cut right through me.  
  
“Depends on the odds,” I said. She giggled, sitting down in front of me.  
  
“My brother, Mick, you met ‘im,” She said, crossing her legs as she sat on the desk, “He was a gambling man regardless of the odds.”  
  
She pulled a coin out of her pocket, holding it up.  
  
“Heads or tails?” She asked.  
  
“What are we betting, Ms. O'Shaunessey?”  
  
Bridget smiled. I could see the family resemblance: the same eyes, same hair, similar cheekbones, but there was coldness in her where in Mick there had been idiocy.  
  
“Your wand,” She said. “Now, I quite like it for myself, but I don’t think it would ever take to me. It’s willful… Like its owner.” I hummed, nodding blearily. I didn’t know how long we’d been there - with the windows blacked out, it was impossible to tell if it was morning or night; time was blending together between periods of torture and calm. It was worse, knowing it was coming from my wand alone.  
  
“You seem to be handling it just fine,” I commented. She smiled, turning it between her fingers.  
  
“Heads, I keep it,” She said, “Tails, I snap it.” My stomach twisted at the thought. That was truly _my_ first magical object as a child - raised in a home for the children of No-Majs, I was accustomed to shaking everything, but that wand was _mine_.  
  
“So?” Bridget asked, twirling the wand between her fingers, “Heads or tails?”  
  
I started saying ‘Heads’.  
  
But the wall sort of exploded, so I never quite got the word out.  
  
Bridget stumbled off of the desk, whirling around to face the source of the destruction. I felt my shoulder sag in relief for a split second as Percival strode through the opening. There was a split second before curses began to fly. I ducked out of my chair, kneeling on the ground behind the desk and try and stay out of the crossfire.

  
The sudden chaos around us meant the goons lost contact with Matilda and the Imperius that they were still holding over her. She scrambled down beside me, watching as the Aurors flooded around the desk. I shifted back holding my hand out as I eyed my wand.  
  
“ _Accio_ ,” I murmured. It flew to my hand and I turned it to my bonds, murmuring, " _Diffindo.”_ My cuffs were severed in an instant and I reached out, doing the same for Matilda’s bonds. She jumped up, summoning her own wand and joining the throng. I pushed myself up, shaky on my feet as I deflected curses being thrown at me. A few of the goons Disapperated; most were immobilized, watching as the Aurors closed in on their boss.Bridget stopped with her back to the wall, staring wildly around the surrounding party. She eyed me, smiling wickedly before turning back to the others.  
  
“I suppose you’ll want to take me in, then?” She asked.  
  
“The game is up, O’Shaunessey,” Tina said, wand raised, “Put your wand down.” Bridget nodded slowly, crouching down and lowering her wand to the floor. We watched with bated breath as she set it down and straightened up. Her hand shot out, summoning my wand and shouting, “ _Incendio_!”.  
  
The fire spread quickly. Where the other Aurors jumped back, I ran forward, through the line of fire.  
  
“ _Acci—_ “ I froze, watching her snap my wand in two with a grin.  
  
“Maybe next time you’ll hedge your bets,” She laughed. An immobilizing spell shot through the fire, freezing Bridget, and she toppled over, laughing as she went down. The fire was put out and the others ventured forward, gripping each of the fallen and Apparating them back to headquarters. I knelt down beside where Bridget had been, picking up the two halves of my wand. I could feel myself tearing up, and I didn’t bother to hide it. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I looked up to see Matilda.  
  
“Let’s get you to medical,” She said softly, holding her other hand out to me. I took it, taking her help and standing. I only caught a glimpse of Percival before we were in the medical wing.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was not my bedroom. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took a while!

The adrenaline held me out until I reached the Medical Wing. Knowing I was in safe hands, I let my guard down. I passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow.   
  
I had flashes of the in-between: the unbearable sensation of my ribs being mended back together; a hand covering my mouth briefly before my screams of pain were silenced; a mumbled conversation between the Head of Medical and a voice I knew well but couldn't place.   
  
\--  
  
This was not my bedroom.   
  
The first thing that tipped me off was the four-poster bed; the second was the House Elf depositing tray on the bedside table (that definitely wasn't my bedside table). I watched blearily as it glared up at me before it turned, leaving the room. I turned to look the tray over, inspecting its contents: a pitcher of water, a glass, a vial of pink liquid, a glass of orange juice, and some toast.   
  
The click of heels heralded Eugenia's arrival. She stilled briefly in the doorway before she came father inside.   
  
"Good, you're up," She said, tone clipped.   
  
"Why am I here?"   
  
"Medical advised that you'd need to be look after while you're healing. Percival reminded me that you live alone."  
  
"You could've left me with Medical."   
  
"Hardly," Eugenia sniffed, stopping beside the bed. She waved for me to sit up, and busied herself as I weakly pushed myself into a sitting position. She passed me the glass of water, letting me take a sip before she took it from me. She lifted the vial next, holding it out.   
  
"What is it?" I asked suspiciously, peering down into it. It smelled like cinnamon, and fizzed slightly when I swirled it about.   
  
"It'll help with your aching, and rid you of the pesky headache I'm sure is forming."  
  
I glanced up at her, not wanting to admit she was right. I drained the liquid, shuddering at the taste. She passed me the orange juice next, plucking the empty vial from my fingers.   
  
"Drink this, you won't taste the solution anymore."   
  
I grunted, gulping the orange juice despite Eugenia's exasperated, "Slow down”. I passed the glass back to her, sinking back against my pillows.   
  
"You've been asleep for quite a while," Eugenia informed me, sitting on the edge of the bed beside me, "You seem to have gone through quite the ordeal."   
  
I lowered my eyes.   
  
"Do you know what happened to my partner?" I asked.   
  
"Percival said that she made it out quite unscathed. I'm now wondering what she perhaps has that you didn't."   
  
"A sense of self-preservation?" I could see Eugenia trying to smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.   
  
"My mouth tends to get me in trouble," I added. Eugenia didn't comment on that, instead taking the plate of toast from the tray and holding it out to me. I took a slice from the plate, nibbling at it slowly. Eugenia caught me up on what had been going on with her social circle. It had been a few weeks since I'd had occasion to hear around her friends; I had missed out Saturday teas of late in favor of scouting out the Second Salemers. I managed to get through one slice of toast, then another, and half of the remaining glass of juice. I could feel my lids drooping as Eugenia pulled the covers up around my shoulders.   
  
"'Genia?"   
  
"Hmm?"   
  
"Where's Percival?"   
  
"...Still at work, pet. Get some rest, I'm sure he'll be here by the time you wake up."  
  
\--   
  
This still wasn't my bedroom. The curtains had been drawn back to let gloomy December light in. Percival was there, sitting on the sill and flipping through a file. He looked tired, disheveled, his hair more of a mess than I'd ever seen it before, as if he'd spent the last few hours doing nothing but combing his fingers through it before trying to flatten it down again.   
  
"Should put a light on. You'll strain your eyes," I said softly. His head whipped around, eyes landing on me as he snapped the file shut. He set it down on the now otherwise empty bedside table, settling down opposite of where his mother had taken her position up earlier.   
  
"Did I wake you up?" He asked, pushing my hair back from my face. I shook my head a little bit.   
  
"No," I sighed, smiling a little, "Hi."   
  
"Hello," He murmured, taking hold of my hand in his. I gave it a gentle squeeze, and he smiled, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it.   
  
"What happened to Bridget?"   
  
"We got her, and her suppliers. We're breaking the cell down bit by bit."   
  
"When can I go back to work?" I asked. His smile disappeared at that, replaced with a stern frown.   
  
"You need to rest."   
  
"As your mother tells it I've been doing nothing but resting."  
  
"You're hurt." I didn't push it, looking down at our joined hands. Percival sighed, giving my hands a soft squeeze.   
  
"When you do go back," He said, leaning back, "You'll be on desk duty for a while." I groaned, tipping my head back against the pillows.   
  
"... Did I imagine it, or did she snap my wand?"  
  
"She did."   
  
"Damnit." Percival's lips twitched at my curse, shaking his head a little bit.   
  
"The department will provide one for you for the time being, until you can get a new one. And no wandless magic in the meantime. Matilda told us that Patronus nearly did you in."   
  
"Well, it worked." Percival didn't answer me, running his thumb along my knuckles. I watched him before I reached out, smoothing my hand over his cheek. He leaned into it.   
  
"You need to rest, Percival," I scolded. He humphed in turn.   
  
"I've been busy."   
  
"All the more reason for you to rest." I paused, eyeing the door.   
  
"There's room here, you know," I pointed out, nodding to the empty space beside me. He smiled, chuckling.   
  
"If mother came in and found me laying beside you, she would have a conniption."   
  
"How long did it take for her to get clearance to take me in?"   
  
"Not long. She did list me as a reference, which was... An ordeal. But I managed to get that shifted to your friend Queenie Goldstein."  
  
"Queenie? Queenie told them Eugenia would be fine to take me in?"   
  
"She seemed to know exactly who they were referring to," Percival confirmed, raising a brow. I lowered my eyes bashfully.   
  
"Your mother has become a friend. I've only mentioned her to Queenie." Percival hummed, unconvinced.   
  
"It's alright, of course. You're not the only person in New York City that knows my mother. And Ms. Goldstein does seem the discreet type."   
  
"She is," I reassured, "If she'll tell anyone it'll probably be Tina, who already knows that I know your mother." I paused, "Are you going to tell me the real reason you haven't been sleeping? This seems to be beyond your usual fatigue."   
  
"You were in quite the bad way the last time I saw you."   
  
"It's a hazard of the job," I pointed out softly.  
  
"Clearly for some more than others," Percival retorted.   
  
"If you didn't want me in harm's way, you should've left me in the secretarial pool where you found me." Percival's lips pressed into a thin line.   
  
"That would've been a waste of your talents. You're a good Auror, dearheart," The pet name made my cheeks to pink, "But you're reckless. I understand your actions were, in part, to protect Matilda, but Matilda can take care of herself." I gave a small nod. Percival gave me a long look, as if he expected me to protest, but we were both too tired to fight.   
  
"I should go, let you get some rest."  
  
"And get some yourself, while you're at it," I grumbled. He smiled, leaning in and pressing a kiss to my forehead before he rested his forehead against mine.  
  
"I'll be back to check on you tomorrow," he promised.   
  
"And you'll find out when I'm cleared for duty again?" I asked.   
  
A stern look, but a nod. One more kiss to my hand, then he stood and left. In his fatigue, he didn't realize he'd left the folder behind.   
  
Let's say, in my fatigue? I didn't mention it. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm glad you're making it home in time for Christmas, anyway," I added, looking around. It seemed the whole of the city was caught up in the holiday spirit - wreaths adorned many doorways, garlands wrapped around banisters.

“There’s been little progress made, and we have matters to address back in London,” Theseus said. I nodded, leaning back against the park bench, resting my head on my hand.   
  
“It’s been nice having you around, for the time being, anyway,” I smiled.   
  
“We didn’t get to spend much time together,” He pointed out, brow raising.  
  
“Yeah, well, we both had work to do. Besides, we’re spending time together now, aren’t we?”   
  
Theseus hummed, taking a sip from the thermos before passing it back to me.   
  
“Even though you ignored my invitations to lunch and dinner and dancing,” He rattled off, and I pushed his shoulder.   
  
“You know seeing one another would be a minor scandal. Those notes you were leaving me caused uproar enough,” I pointed out. Theseus grunted in return.   
  
"And may I remind you that you were brought over for work. Not canoodling," I added. Theseus chuckled, but the red that spread across his neck and ears was not lost on me.

"I'm glad you're making it home in time for Christmas, anyway," I added, looking around. It seemed the whole of the city was caught up in the holiday spirit - wreaths adorned many doorways, garlands wrapped around banisters.

"Perhaps you can make the trip across the Atlantic next," Theseus said, tone dripping with nonchalance. I rolled my eyes.

"You're going to get me in trouble, Scamander."

\--

“You wanted to see me, ma’am?” I asked. Picquery waved me in. The door shut behind me.   
  
“Sit,” She said lightly. I rounded the chair and lowered myself into it, back ramrod straight. She gave me a small smile, which didn’t set me at ease at all.   
  
“It’s good that you’re back.”   
  
“Good to be back, ma’am.”   
  
“Medical said it was touch and go for a moment.”   
  
“…Just a moment ma’am, yes.”   
  
“You’re aware that the Aurors from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will be returning to the UK at the end of this week?”   
  
“Yes, ma’am.”   
  
“This is, as you know, a result of little movement on the Grindlewald case. And considering the fact that there’s been more movement on the continent…” She trailed off, looking me over. I kept my mouth closed, unsure of what I was meant to say. Picquery went on,   
  
“I spent some time with Thursby while he was here. What he told me about you, in your service… The fact that you lied on your enlistment form to join up. I’m surprised they didn’t catch you with the Trace.” I smiled tightly.   
  
“Well, the world was at war, ma’am. They were willing to look the other way.”   
  
“I understand. It was a matter of circumstance… But, if you do not stop treating every situation as you did in the war, you will not survive. You’re proving to be a good Auror. You’re thorough, you have good instincts. But you jump into situations too quickly.” I nodded, lowering my eyes.   
  
“I understand, ma’am.”   
  
“And regarding the rumors about yourself, Mr. Graves, and Mr. Scamander.” I felt myself grow tense.   
  
“Ma’am?”   
  
When Picquery smiled this time, she seemed far more relaxed.   
  
“Pay them no mind. Someone will always seek to tear you down, by any means necessary. That being said, if anything  _is_ going on between yourself and anyone in your department, immediate action will be taken.”   
  
“Understood, ma’am.”   
  
“Good. Now if you’ll excuse me.”   
  
“Of course. Thank you,” I said, standing.   
  
The door clicked shut behind me.

—

  
“How are you handling desk duty?” Graves asked. I was careful not to glance up at him as he flipped through the report I’d handed him.   
  
“It’s driving me insane,” I grumbled, “I’m going wand shopping this weekend, though, and Medical says I’m nearly fully healed. I’ll be back on the field as soon as I’m given clearance.”   
  
Graves grunted, signing a form and passing it back to me.   
  
“Going to Yuleman and Bern?”   
  
“It’s the only wand shop I know of in the city, so yes,” I said, taking the folder from him. He gave me a nod.   
  
“Good luck,” He commented, shooting me a damn near imperceptible wink before heading into his office. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were touches of Eugenia’s decorating here and there - the curtains, particularly, and the clock on the mantelpiece. But the rest of it was utterly Percival. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta read.

“If there’s anything else I can assist you with, please let me know.” I nodded to the attendant who disappeared to the front of the shop, where an elderly woman was practically screaming about wand polish. 

The musty smell hadn’t changed. Stepping inside made me feel like an eleven year old again: terrified, clutching to my hat and shaking imperceptibly in my second-hand coat, with ten other No-Maj born behind me. I was on my own this time, peering over the selection of the secondhand wands. There were five shelves worth, at least. I sighed, scanning he shelves and eyeing the descriptions:  Cherrywood, twelve and three quarter inches, core of dragon heartstring; maple, ten inches, dragon bone core; yew wood, eleven inches long, core of a kraken heartstring—

“What are you doing?” I jumped at the voice, turning to see Graves coming into the aisle. I opened my mouth to respond, confused, turning to look between him and the wands. 

“What… Else does one do in a wand shop, exactly?” 

“You’re looking at used wands.” 

“I am— What are you doing in this shop?” 

“What do you think. Come on.” 

“What?” I asked. Graves gave me an impatient look, the likes of which I hadn’t seen since the first few months of my training. He held his hand out, beckoning me closer. 

“Come on,” he repeated. 

“Graves,” I took a couple of steps closer, but I avoided taking his hand. I leaned in a little, lowering my voice, “I can’t afford a new wand.”

“I can.”

“Congratulations. Get one for yourself.” 

“But—“ 

“You are not buying me a new wand.” 

“No, I’m not. The department is. I need my Aurors outfitted with the best.” “Would you go out of your way to make sure Abernathy was buying the best wand?” 

“Well, no…” Graves tipped his head forward conspiratorially, “But Abernathy is a shit. Now come on.” He took my hand, leading me out of that section of the shop. 

“I did just fine with my last wand, that was secondhand,” I pointed out. 

“Well let’s see how you do with a fresh one, then. Excuse me,” Graves raised his voice, catching the attention of one of the shop attendants. I yanked my hand away from his as half the shop turned to see who was speaking. 

“If we could have assistance for one of my Aurors, please.”

It was clearly a command, not a request, and I couldn’t hide my amusement as four different shop attendants scrambled to assist us. I had never been paid such attention in my life. Three different assistants went to pull wands for me; one simply stayed behind to try and talk up Mr. Graves. I knew Percival’s face well enough now: it wasn’t working. 

Their fawning over us had been enough to draw the eyes of the rest of the customers, and I could hear a murmuring of Graves’ name now and again, but not mine. It was unsurprising, but also sort of relief; no one knew who I was. It took three hours, but I wound up with a ten inch cedar wand, cored with dragon heartstring.

Percival had dealt with the expense. I didn’t event want to think about what it had cost. Graves held the door open for me, leading me around the corner. 

“You’re not busy, are you?” He asked. I shook my head, the weight of my new wand heavy in my pocket. 

“This was really the only thing I needed to do today. Why?” Graves steered us into an alleyway. He took my hand, and we disappeared. 

—

“… You do seem the type to bring your work home with you. Which is absurd, considering how many hours you spend at work,” I said, walking further inside. Percival had taken my hat and coat and hung them by his front door. I had been briefly stunned when I realized we hadn’t Apparated to his mother’s house. Percival’s apartment was tidy, for the most part; every table, as far as I could see, was stacked with books and files and papers. 

“Where do you eat?” I asked, amused as I stopped by his dining table. I turned to look at him, and found his cheeks pleasantly pink with embarrassment. 

“…In the sitting room,” He grumbled, stepping around me. I held in a laugh, biting my lip. “Would you like something to drink?” He offered, stopping just outside his kitchen. 

“I wouldn’t say no to tea,” I said. He nodded, disappearing inside. I didn’t follow, instead taking the chance to take a look at the rest of the place. There were touches of Eugenia’s decorating here and there - the curtains, particularly, and the clock on the mantelpiece. But the rest of it was utterly Percival. 

The sitting room was large: there was a fire already going in the fireplace; the couch (which did have a few crumbs if you looked close enough) had a large, dark green blanket draped over the back. I ran my hand along it, feeling its plushness. I had the feeling Graves fell asleep on the couch most nights. I turned back to look at Percival as he came in, mugs in hand. 

“Here,” He said, passing one to me. I took a sip and hummed. 

“Someone’s been raiding his mother’s tea chest.” 

“Well, don’t tell her.” I smiled, stepping around him to his bookshelves.

“… I’m surprised Picquery didn’t say anything about me staying with your mother,” I commented. The chat she and I had had was weighing on me. 

“I suspect it’s because she didn’t know. If she did, it’s something that she would’ve raised with me first,” Percival said.

“And she hasn’t?”

“No, dearheart.” I didn’t know where the pet name had come from, but I was taking a liking to it. I set the mg down on a shelf, pulling a book out and looking it over. 

“The department tongues are going to be wagging on Monday,” I said thoughtfully.

“What for?” I rolled my eyes, replacing the book and turning back to look at Percival. 

“You bought me a wand, Perce. And don’t—“ I cut him off before he could speak, “Don’t tell me this is something you’d do for any of your Aurors unless you really mean it.” Percival lowered his eyes, chastised. I sighed, shaking my head. 

“After this… Fiasco with the O’Shaugnessy’s, I need to keep my head down. I can’t keep having people in the Department talk about us.” Percival set his mug down, walking closer and stopping just in front of me. 

“What if I’m fine with them talking about us?” He asked. I could feel my stomach in knots. 

“What if I’m not?” I asked. I saw his confidence falter, and I hurried to justify it, “If Picquery finds out…How much time we spend together, I’m in such trouble. And who do you think they’re going to demote or get rid of, the head of the department or the Auror that doesn’t know how to keep her wand in her pocket and her mouth shut?” Graves knew I was right, and he raised his eyes to look at the books, at the shelf, at the mug - anywhere but at me. 

“Do you not want to see me anymore?” He asked after a moment. I reached out, taking his hands in mine. 

“I do want to see you. But we need to be more careful,” I begged softly. Percival’s eyes landed on me, and he didn’t speak for a moment. He shuffled a little closer, crowding me against the shelves. 

“Then we’ll be more careful,” He agreed. 

“…I mean it, Perce, we can’t just say it and then—“ 

“I swear,” He said firmly. I went quiet, my eyes darting from his to his lips. I looked away as Percival’s hand dropped mine. I felt cup my cheek, turning my head to look at him again.

“Do you trust me?” He murmured. 

“Of course I do,” I whispered.

Percival dipped his head, eyes on mine as he moved. This was new. I had a flash of that first night in his mother’s home, the front hall, when he asked me about Tina and the Second Salemers. And then the following visit, when we were both pink from drinking and giggling before I had floo’d away. Moments on his mother’s couch, sitting close while she chattered with Ermentine in the next room; the rare late night in his office, reviewing a case for the tenth time and too frustrated, tired to care that we were sitting close and anyone could walk in. Something had always stopped us then.

There was nothing to stop us now.

His lips brushed mine, giving me a chance to object. I leaned in as he began to lean back, catching his lower lip between mine. He dropped my other hand, gripping me by the waist to pull me closer. I sighed, arms looping around his shoulders. It was like finishing a jigsaw puzzle: two pieces fitting together to offer a full, clear picture; the image you always knew was there and spent the time to fuss over and construct.

I don’t know how long we kissed for; I don’t know when we moved to the couch. The sky was growing dark as we sat curled together, lazy and content and looking into the fire. I glanced over at the window before I turned my head, nuzzling against his neck. 

“It’s snowing,” I mumbled. He hummed in agreement, a hand rubbing my shoulder soothingly. 

“I should go soon,” I added, looking up at him. He met my eye, nodding despite the fact that he was pouting a little. 

“Whatever you want, dearheart.”

I wanted to kiss him again. 

So I did. 


End file.
